


Changes ahead!

by libelula



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Reality, F/M, Friendship/Love, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 09:25:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 60,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/libelula/pseuds/libelula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is about a day, that would change mankind forever</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wake up! Its Weargus Day!

**Author's Note:**

> I noticed, that I posted an unedited Version of my script, so I decided to correct my mistake. Sorry, I had to delete to repost it. You're still invited to tell me, what you think of my mind game.

It was about 3 o’clock when Cristiano woke up by the phone. Anger already rising, who would be that stupid to disturb his sleep. Everyone knew the importance of sleep for your skin, and that he cared for his to be in a good condition, not willing to get any wrinkles sooner as it had to be. Who ever called him in the middle of the night had to be completly nuts or ready to die a long and horrirble death. He gave a groan. At least it didn’t wake up the Baby! He took his cellphone and answered.

“Gooood morning Pretty One!” the voice was far to happy and to loud for the nighttime. Cristiano knew immediatly, who had the nerve to disturbe him in the middle of the night.

“David, how’s life in Paris going on?” The older man laught through the phone. “Don’t tell me you’re completely clueless? Cris wake up, the day has come!” The Potruguese fought back a scream. He tried to breath calmly, as David continued. “I’ve been waiting so long for this, no more hiding, finally everybody will be what he should be, I can’t wait to get my broom and fly...” “Still not using a vacuum cleaner” Cristiano finally got his thoughts back together. Sure this witchmaster shocked him, but he remembered his identity. He was superiour to all of them. His birth gave him a natural nobility, he should never let a witch talk to him like that, especially at three o’clock in the night. “If you don’t act more carefully, you might end up in one’s black book” Cristiano could hear the Englishman hiss on the other side of the line. “Why do you risk to wake my son and rise my anger?”

“Well at least I didn’t sleep, when there are a lot of things to be done before dawn... YOU were asleep.” O.k., one for David. Cristiano had had no idea, that the day would be here so soon. He just had to admit it: “You’re right, how much time is left?” He tried to sound confident, but the monemt he spoke, he knew it was a lousy attempt.

"Come on, Pretty One, you knew this day would come. Don't tell me, you didn't prepare something for this day of great joy. At least your club has an emergency plan, I hope...They used to have one when I was there...but you realy surprise me Cris...I thought the Moles are the best informed race ever...” Cristiano was sure David talked on like this for hours without notecing noone was listening at all, when he hung up the phone. He dialed the first number on his emergency phonelist. It was the eight, of course.

“Cris, what’s wrong? Anything with the baby?” Ricky was the kindest person he knew, not even angry for beeing woken up at this hour. “I just got a call from David. Wishing me a happy Weargus Day!” Ricky gasped.

 

An hour later everyone was at the clubhouse.

Iker tried to get the crew calm, but it was to loud around, so he took a seat next to Sergio, who couldn’t stop laughing hysterically since he arrived. At least he didn’t get agressiv as Pepe or Fábio, who were arguing in Portuguese. Sami sank down on the sofa next to Iker, pulling Mesut down with him. The smaller German had not made any sound since Karim called him, and the Frenchman, blessed with incredible presence of mind, phoned the next number on the list as well as Sami to fetch his younger friend.The moment Mesut sat down he seemed to wake up looking confused at Sergio whose laughter had turned into a hiccup.

Slowly the German leaned against Sami’s broad shoulder and opend his mouth. “No, Mess, I don’t think we can do something for Sergio at the moment. But If you need another cup of cacao just let me know.” Mesut closed his mouth. Iker had always wondered how this small and silent boy managed to communicate without even saying a single word, but he was worth his weight in diamonds for this abillity on the pitch.

Ricky sat down next to Sergio looking worried. “Do you think it would do any good, if I tell it again?” Iker shrugged, at least it wouldn’t do any bad.

The guys came closer. Of course, they had heard that before. All big clubs and the military were prepared for that moment, when everyone would change into what ever he or she really was. The medicals had tried to find out the tendences and the Species as far as that was possible, in some cases they had been victorious, in most it sounded more like a guess.

Ricky took a deep breath, choosing his words with great care: “When the world was young, before they started to count time, this place was parted into three. In the sky lived the bewinged, strong folk with high culture and noses” Iker grunted. They told him he would grow wings, if he’ll survive the transformation. Ricky knew that, too. “On the face of the earth walked all kinds of magical creatures and magical casters. Druids, who took their energy from the ground, witches, who took it from the wind and magicians who studied long to learn how to produce the energy by themselves. Elves and faeries, a whole kingdom of tall cats walking on two feet, fighting an endless war against the hyenas.” He made a short break as he noticed Mou and Florentino entering the room, but both men sat down silently and he went on. “And there was the world beyond. Inhabited by the horned ones, the Moles, the tauri and the old creatures. It was the war between these fractions that made the world turning. It is told, that everything started with the murdering of the darkelves, just a small group of peaceful creatures, when the underworld lost it’s balance. The magic was forgotten, only to flash up about every 500 years, when the genetic pool spits out one surviver of that species, which is always followed by a big historic bang.” “Ähm, Ricky?” Álvaro grabed his sleeve “This was not part of the original story. And how do you explain the existence of witches and druids and over the ceturies...”

“Kids, I really hate to interrupt your storytime, but I think it would be better now to seperate into the groups, as we disscussed before. It’s only for the best, we don’t want to hurt each other.” The Mister had got up on his feet. Cristiano gave a last look on his sleeping son and handed him over to a nurse, who carried the baby out. Some of the guys hugged each other before they went to the prepared rooms.

Cristiano looked at Ricky a last time. He was sure the necromancer, that called himself a priest, would find a way to speak to him whatever would happen.  
The transfermation could be dangerous, if the skeleton shrunk to fast... Well, the Portuguese had nothing to be afraid of. The moles philosophy included the certainty, that everybody would only change to be closer to perfection, which, of course could not be that much if it came to moles. He himself had wolked hard to become balanced, his weight in proportion to his height was carefully held by a strict diet and the right amount of workout. It could not be that bad for him. He was never prepared to the pain that hit him at the hour of dawn.

The taller players had given the “puppies” a hard time, when Florentino told them, they could stay together, because the danger of hurting themselves should be nonexisting. After a short moment of feeling sorry, he might not belong to the cool kids, Karim was happy, he wouldn’t have to spend the time of transformation alone. The room was paved with mattresses, pillows and cosy blankets. Karim looked at Ángel. “Seems like they expect us to behave like toddlers.” The Argentine shook his head. “At least we won’t get cold feet.” Luka glanced at Mesut.” If Karim was honest, the German really behaved most of the time like a chilled through girl, but Karim had to admit, spending time with the playmaker was alot of fun. He liked the guy with his huge, sad eyes. “Stop it Luka!” Álvaro placed himself on a pile of pillows. “If you can’t behave kind we could imagine, you’re turning into a cow during the change.” Karim giggled and jumped on the soft ground. Maybe this wouldn’t be that bad. He was so wrong.

As soon as Iker found out that he was not going to break into pieces, he got up and streched. He HAD grown wings! He just started thinking of how much better he could cover the goal spreading them, when he remembered, that the best keeper wouldn’t be effective without the rest of his team. He walked out on the corridor to speak with a still sweating, previously taller medic. There had been grave complications with some of the crew. Iker stared at the man. Yes, two of the players did not survive the night.

Sami woke up in a padded cell lying on the floor. He knew it would hurt. He had always been tall and broad and was told the transformation would boost the tendencies. Every bone felt like it fire. He tried to stretch, it went better than he thought. He would have to get out of this room to see how Mesut was done. The kid had really hoped he might grow a little or develop to be more like his family. Sami cought, these idiots had no idea, what had grown among them. They were never able to understand the boy and they never were fond of their friendship. He got up and had some trouble in focussing, when the sound of ripping cloth caught his attention, he looked down at himself. He had grown, according to his clothes. He remembered the conversation he had with the medicals after they tested him. “It might be, that your genetics are to washed out. You won’t change alot.” He chuckled. Oh, how they were wrong. When he finally stepped out of the cell, he noticed a strange sizzling sound, but there was noone around but him. As the sound apeared again as the tall man caught himself darting his tongue out. It felt long and thin.

Cristiano woke up by a soft voice. “Don’t be afraid. I know you’re not used to have a fever.” He tried to raise his head, but a sudden pain struck him down. He swallowed and noticed the strong taste of blood. A slight panic started to rise as his thoughts began to turn, but then there was this voice again. “Stay calm, I take care of everything.” Cristiano blinked and recognised Ricky’s face above him. “You are a saint of a necromancer” “I prefer priest of life and death” Ricky sighed “But if you insist... By the way you have an, hmm, amazing son” Cristiano had no time to think about that last sentence, he felt something drop inside his mouth and as he spat out, he had a back tooth drenched in blood in his hand. “What the f....!”

Two hours and an uncounted number of teeth later Cristiano finally had a look at Baby Cris. The child did focus him in a really amazing way. Most remarkable was the fact, that the kid didn’t show any emotion at all. “That IS close to perfection” The portuguese hissed. “I would call it spooky.” He knew Ricky would have some trouble in understanding. “Being a Mole means neither having a conscience nor a soul. Nor anything that keeps us apart from the ambition of being as close to pefection as possible.” He repeated to explain. “ I know, please don’t say it again. You can never reach it, but it’s the ultimate goal.” Ricky lowered his eyes. “But please allow me to say, your son was cuter, when he laughed and blabbered and, oh Cris, behaved like a Baby should.” Cristiano sighted again, he knew he wouldn’t be so gentle with anybody else on that theme, but the Brazilian was the kindest person he had ever met, although he had an amazing ability in butchering chickens.


	2. This is only the beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The survivors, the dead and a blissfull soullessness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still posting my edited version now...

Sergio woke up in heavy pain. His head felt like he had been listening far to long to the horrible techno-noise Mesut used to call music. The Sevillano rolled on his knees ready to get up, but a sudden unfamiliar feeling made him hesitate. There was something wrong in a place, where nothing should be! It hurt at THAT spot! Sergio looked down on his lap and tried to calm. Slowly he fingered the lacing on his pants open, his hands trembling. Of course he was afraid, he might have lost there... After all he was just a normal guy and this was something personal and important to him. With a sigh the pain immediatly stoped the moment he opend his pants. Staring at himself the Spaniard couldn’t repress to chuckle. If he wasn’t able to play football anymore, he could still do porn. “Nando’s gonna love that.” Was the first thought crossing his mind. The second one was more reviewed. He would need bigger pants, which meant going on a shopping-tour. He couldn’t hide grin. But then, the third made him shudder. He would drive most of the ladies he used to...date... back, with that size.

Loud collywobbles brought him back to reality. He needed food. Now.

And, if he was honest, he was sure he would never find the right person to still his needs completly. So why worry now! While thinking about a big steak, his head hit the upper door case. “¡Joder!” He had grown in general.

Cristiano and Ricky joined most of the team in the conference room. Iker stood next to the coach looking so pale that there was no need of fortune-telling to see, something had gone wrong. The Portuguese scanned the room quickly and understood that it had to be one of the smaller guys, for they were all missing. Ricky crossed the room to fast to be not determined, sitting down next to Sami, who looked nearly unchanged. But his skin shone in a strange pearly way AND his tongue, which was pointing out of his mouth every now and then, long thin like a snake’s, but divided treble. Cristiano nodded slowly. An ancient dragon. That was a surprise. Sami would be quite useful for his plans, when it came to the new sectioning of the world.

A second glance told Cristiano that some more players were missing. Neither Pepe nor Sergio were in the room. Both not surviving that night would be a big surprise. They were strong and well proportioned athletes with the tendence of growing bigger, which was alot less dangerous than shrinking.

Florentino entered the room. “My dearest,” That was an unfamiliar start for this man of business, whose now golden eyes rested on the members of his team. “we’ve all been kind of afraid of that day. And I have the sad duty of telling you, that some of our protégés did not make it through the transformation.” Cristiano noticed Ricky stroking Sami’s broad back, while the taller man was shaking like leaves in the wind. It would be a pitty, if Mesut had past away. Cristiano didn’t mourn the person, but the boy had a special way of handling the ball and his movement on the pitch looked like dancing. Like all Moles, the Portuguese was an aesthete. No more watching this kid, indeed meant a lost of pleasure.

“Luka and Ángel weren’t strong enough.” Gonzalo started to weep and to Cristiano’s surprise Sami,too. “Our thoughts are with their families and friends now.” Florentino picked up his speach. “For the rest of you, I’ve understood, you’ve already talked to your families and we have no more sad news for now. Still, please rememder, that this is not over yet. Everyone of you shall have a medical analysis. When the first wave of shock is over the people will be in great need for bread and circusses to keep them calm. And befor you ask for the missing ones, Pepe is still in the middle of a rage attack, Sergio has a mild concussion, caused by a doorframe he destroyed with his forehead and Karim is still asleep. You guys will like his pointed cat-ears. Álvaro needed some support after..., well you know. He really turned out to be a Canis.” Marcelo chuckled, but Mou focussed him and hissed “If I hear any puppy-jokes, you will be punished in a way you cannot imagine now.” There was no doubt the coach, who looked completely unchanged, meant it. “What about Mesut?” Ricky broke the silence asking the question Sami feared to much to tell. Florentino shrugged his shoulders. “Actually we’re not sure what he is. But I can asure you” he looked straight into Sami’s eyes. “he’s gonna be fine. He’s a brave little fighter. And I guess he might want to see you Sami, when he’s out of the MRI.”

The next few days went by very fast. The spanish military had the situation under control and it was the same nearly in the complete world. The networks of the witchcircles, the magicguildes and the Moles took over so fast, that the ordinary people didn’t even notice a change.  
The team slowly started training again. It was good to have everyday life back. But still, there was no denial that nothing would be the same again. Álvaro was still unable to speak about the things that happend in the room full of pillows and blankets. Iker was convinced it had been a bad idea to put the endangered ones into one room. But the mistake had been done. There would be a lot of psychotherapy for the kid with the warm eyes and the soft ears...

Karim didn’t remember anything that happend. The medics said, he had been fallen asleep before it started and woken up when everything was done. The team really loved his pointed ears and the fact, that he couldn’t stop purring whenever someone touched them.

Sergio apeared after three days back for the workout. He looked like he had seen a ghost. And when Iker got a call from Nando, he knew, there was shit ahead. The spanish striker had called the goal keeper about a hundred times, crying and complaining that Sergio had droped him, and had had the nerves doing it by sms.

Iker had tried to talk to his friend, but the defender had no answers to give. He just shook his head and turned back to the sandbag he was murdering for hours. The goalkeeper didn’t expect Sergio to speak at all, when he sank next to him on the couch with a mug of tea. “You always said, I should finish it. Nando deserves someone, who really loves him, not me, who just likes playing. I never said it to him, you know, and still he seemed to have felt more. You were right, I shouldn’t have started this.” Iker gasped. That was very frankly spoken. “What are you gonna do now? I’ve heard, you cleaned up with your girlfriends,too.” “I’ll become an ascetic like Cris.” Sergio faked a smile, but Iker knew better. The Sevillano always had girls and boys aplenty around him. And he got away with what ever he did. Now he seemed to have lost his easyness. The goalkeeper looked at his younger friend in sorrow. “Have you spoken to Mesut already?” Sergio changed the subject. “I haven’t even seen him. They make a big secret of him, but if he turned out to have become invisible, there’s no defence to stop him.” This time the Sevillano didn’t even try to fake, he switched into a complete icebox. Now that was a hint for the teamcaptain. He knew the two guys had been best buddies. Although they couldn’t be more different. The broad and loud, always joking and grinning Spaniar, who could win the world with his 1000 watt smile in less than five seconds and the slender, modest German, who hardly spoke a word, but you could see a world in his strange, sad eyes.  
Iker decided to go and speak to the playmaker first, before he would go on with the silver-tongued Sevillano.

Cristiano was on his way to the nursery, to pick up his son. Passed Señora Vieja, who had worked for Real for more than twenty years. Baby Cris was as always about this daytime on a thick blanket close to the window, but today something was different. Since the change the toddler had just lain there watching everybody with an impressing intensity, without making any sound. Just like a normal, soulless Molebaby.  
Today there was a young woman kneeling on the blanket with the child in her arms. Cristiano couldn’t but admire the back of her slender, snow white neck and the nearly perfectly shaped silhouette. Her indigo hair was mid-length and looked very soft with a fine silky shine. Her butt resting on very little feet covered in woolen socks, proved, she was an athletic girl. Just when Cristiano started to think about reprodicing from this fine genetic material, if her face was that aesthetic as the back view, he noticed something, that made his blood run cold. Baby Cris cuddled with the girl, purred and smiled, squeaked and laughed like an ordinary baby in a state of complete blissful happyness.

“WHAT have you done to my son!” Cristiano was mad of anger. The Girl slowly turned her head and Cristiano immediatly spoted his mistake. The steep jarline, the crinkly ears, the fine nose and that tin, pink mouth could only belong to one person in the world. Cristiano was completely unable to stand the look from the huge, black eyes framed by long dark lashes.  
“What have I DONE?” Mesut was absolutly clueless about Molebabies. “Your son seemed a little lonely to me, so we played for a moment.” This voice was as sweet as honey, and pure as fresh fallen snow. The German got up to give the child over to Cristiano. A pittiful cry filled the room as Cris junior started to sob, pushing his helpless father away with the tiny hands. Mesut took the Baby back and the noise was gone just as fast as it apeared. “What have you done to yourself?”

When Ricky and Marcelo entered the nursery to pick up their kids, Señora Vieja asked them for a favour, to look what was going on in the left corner of the room. She really seemed afraid, so they moved quickly. But the scene they found left them open mouthed.  
Cristiano was kneeling on the ground his head placed on the lap of a girl, sitting on a chair. In her arms she gently rocked a giggling Baby. And as they got closer the situation turned out even more bizar. Ricky sank down next to the Portuguese, who was completely in tears, a picture of misery. But the older man couldn’t hide a smile. “I knew you would be wonderful nenê.” He beamed at the German, who was obviously unable to cope with Cristiano’s state. “What have I done wrong?” Marcelo stared at Ricky and shrugged. “Nothing, you did a fantastic job!” Ricky reached out to stroke Mesut smooth cheek “You gave both their souls back.”  
Marcelo frowned. He was unsure, if it was that fantastic. He’d never heard of a blissful Mole. And by the way did anyone but him notice that their playmaker was a mixture of a boy and a girl? If he was right, it would cause alot of trouble...  
He could smell the problems. If the midfielder was physically able to keep playing with the team, would he still share the dressing room and the shower? (Marcelo was missing a really important point.)


	3. The eye of the storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An angry girlfriend, a sad defender and a reason to run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the edited version... Please tell me, what you think about it.

Sami found himself a routine very soon. He got up early, followed by a short jogging and showering, a big breakfast made of uncooked, bloody meat. He was a little shocked about his appetite first, but he got used to it easy. Human was now no more than a collective term for all species habitated on this planet. So if he had become a carnivore, then it shall be. He was happy, Mesut didn’t loose his desire for sweets, someone would have to kill the cookie icecream in the freezer at least.  
After cleaning up the kitchen he drove to the medical centre visitig his best friend. This was a highlight of his morning. He could taste Mesut’s smell the moment he got out of the elevator. But this time there was someone else in the corridor. Iker waited for Sami at the door.  
”Hey, you’re up very early feathers!” Sami joked. “Si, T-Rex. I have two duties to be done.” Ikers smiled back. “You know, I take care of you guys and you were the only one, who hadn’t told me about his family by now. So how’s Lena doing?”

It caught Sami on the wrong foot. Lena! All the time he had the feeling, he’d forgotten something really important...

Iker lifted his brows. “See, this brings me to my second point. You are very protective with Mesut at the moment. Well, more than usual...” The German had to sit down, his legs started to shake. He knew what this meant. And his captain, too. “Do you think there’s something I can do against it?” “When do you think, did you hoard him?” Iker didn’t expect Sami to blush on that question. The tall man cleared his thoat before he spoke. “I guess when I first met him. It was the second September 2006. At six past eight at the airport in Frankfurt. He put his suitcase on my left foot and I was ready to punch him, but he...” Sami stopped helplessly. Iker couldn’t hide a smile. “Come on, you’re remembering date and time? We all know he can be a pest, but if he had the intention, this kid could raise an army in twelve seconds. One day the world’s gonna pronaunce him it’s king... or queen, if I believe in some report given by a teammember.” The dragon jumped to his feet. “Relax, I’m here to look at him myself. But you really should call your girlfriend. How does she get along with your threesome?”  
Iker was right. Lena was bugged by the situation sometimes, but in general she seemed content. He would call her now.  
After a long and joyless phonecall Sami went back to his routine.  He visited Mesut and was told, that the midfielder was completely healthy and ready to spend the day with the team and go back to his flat in the evening. Mesut was happy to have some everyday life again, but horribly afraid of the training. At least he had lost ten cm hight and fifteen kg weight. Could he be able to run fast enough keep up with them, what if he had lost his abilities with the ball? Zizou was ready to build him up, when they reached the pitch. “I’m so glad to have you back again.” He beamed, well aware that these words would make the young man blush “These lumps are not able to move with any elegance. Show them how to dance.” Ricky smiled. They knew how to take these words. Zidane was a kind man, but every now and then he proved, he was a typical druid. Bold and choleric. He took the time to hugg Mesut for welcome. It was Fábio, the little spitfire, who told the Brazilian to cheer up, with Luka dead and Mesut female, Ricky would be back in the first team. Cristiano was the only one, who could move Pepe off of Fábio. But he waited several minutes befor he made his move. The blonde man wasn’t evil, he was just impolite and sometimes impossible. Ricky knew that. But above that he was sad and jelous of the small playmaker.

The coach was in a good mood today. At last his remaining team was back on the pitch. Ell, they looked a little different, but none of them had turned into a spider or something compareable useless on the pitch. He had an easy workout prepared and took great care not to exceet anybody’s limit. He chose the partners for streching with caution and paired the little German with Karim, who was purring all through the exercises. Mesut seemed to like the sound and proved to be the most flexible member of the team, while Karim tried to put him up like a folding chair. “At least the kids stayed the same.” Mou thought. During an unit of fighting for the ball without killing, Mesut was so unbelieveble, Pepe asked for a crowbar to seperate him form the ball. And as José returned to the bench he found Zidane and Florentino grinning. “You’ve seen it too, didn’t you?” the Frenchman laughed out loud at that question. “Hoeneß will be completly frantic. We have a Darkelve with telepathic and telekinetic abilities.” “Don’t forget his technique. The only problem is, how do we stop the vendetta, if he ever gets fouled?”

Fábio took a careful look at the small playmaker next to Sami. He was curious about how he looked under the clothes. If this was a Darkelve, he would be a hybrid. The Portuguese was disapointed to see no big change at all when they entered the shower room. Of course, Mesut wasn’t very... abudant, but that wasn’t something new to the defender. Visible were only changed proportions. The German’s hip was nearly as broad or slender as his shoulders and there was no hair growing on that perfect chinaware skin. Fábio had to admit, that this boy wasn’t an ugly duckling anymore. His silhouette was slim and soft without any hard edges. The Portuguese decided to spend more time with this genetic rarity that smiled so blissfully after his successful workout.

Next day Sergio didn’t apear to practice. Iker tried to phone him, but the Sevillian didn’t answer. He drove over after the training, starting to worry. At least Sergio had never missed a workout without a reason and never before without an excuse. Iker thought about Nando, who was still complaining about the loss of his lover, who, now that he’d turned into a Taurus should be especially interesting... Iker shook his head. He had seen Sergio and he could not believe,how anybody wouldn’t think of that as frightening. The goalkeeper was happy to have an extrakey, though he’d never used it before. When he entered the suite with the amazing view over Madrid, the strong smell of alcohol bit his nose. “¡Joder Sergio, what have you done!”

Sami dawdled on his way home. He didn’t want to face his girlfriend after the fight they had this morning. She arrived late last night from a shooting in France and they started arguing immediatly. She was mad about him not calling her or answering the phone and she execrated the meat he ate. She was so angry, that there was rain all morning over Madrid. Lena had turned into a stormfaerie. She still looked amazing, but she was a vegetarian and Sami was not able to digest anything but animal protein. And what was even worse for the midfielder, she was mad because of Mesut. “It’s him or me!” That was what she said. How could he ever decide. Sami loved Lena with all his heart, but he knew, as a dragon, he would never give up his hoard. Sami found the door open, her suitcases packed in the corridor. He sighed. She was not gone, yet and maybe he could convince her to stay. He called. No answer. Why had the door been left open? When he entered the living room and looked out of the window all of his thoughts stopped. He could not think or breathe. For a moment his heart stopped beating at the sight.

Iker forced his way through the chaos into the livingroom. Well, there had been some kind of a fight in here. Every mirror in this place was smashed into pieces and most of the furniture was scattered on the floor. If Sergio had done all this himself, he would have to talk to a headshrinker about it. The goalkeeper knew, Tauri had the tendency to see red, but not without a trigger. He found the defender under the couch drunk as a newt. “Oh, for God’s sake, why did you do that?” Of course he didn’t get an answer, but as he looked up, a movement on the balcony of the next house cought his attention. Iker opened his mouth, but wasn’t able to scream. His legs started moving automatically, while his head knew, he would be to late to pull Mesut back down the balustrade.

Sami rushed out of the door, leaving it open, hurried over to the other building, took the stairs. He knew, he could not wait for the elevator, his were lungs screaming as he finally reached the highest storey. The door was left open, but he had no time to mind it as he moved fast through the well cleaned up flat. Crossing the kitchen his eyes cought a sight on a paper with just one word scribbled: “ayep”

His heart sank the moment he saw the balustrade empty. His knees just quitted to function, tears started to stream over his face and down to his beard, when he heard a sobbing from the balcony. Sami crawled on all fours to the glassdoor and peeked around the corner. The warmth that filled his body with relief was overwhelming.

When Iker finally reached the highest storey, he cursed. Why did all of his colleagues had to live so high above the ground. He decided, if he was ever to move again, it would be the groundfloor. He dared to look on the balcony without any hope and found Sami, Lena and Mesut laying between the flower pots on the ground sobbing, weeping and hugging. For a moment he thought of joining them, but instead he took his phone and dialed the emergency number. The midfielder had always been a happy-kind-of-person, jumping of the balcony was no regular behaviour. At least he seemed out of danger, Sami should be able to keep Mesut fixed, as long, as they didn’t get up. As he went back indoors, Iker froze in a sudden shock. “Cris, what are you doing here? Do you have anything to do with that scene?” The Portuguese looked up from the paper he had been examining and shook his head. “Capitán, I am all astonishment. You really think, I would do something so amateurish? It’s the middle of the day, if I was about to kill someone, I wouldn’t do it while everybody can see me! By the way, I would never hurt that angelic creature. He saved my son’s life and mine. AND he will be of great use in future. Let’s face it Iker, noone made me look that good on the pitch, as he did last season. I’m very relieved to find him alive, but” Cristiano lifted the paper “this is Turkish and it is missspelled.” The Spaniard sighted “Then there’s no doubt: It’s Mesut’s. You know, words are not his preferred language. What does it say?” “Shame.”


	4. Symptom and cause

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cunning plan, a momologue-discussion and a Portuguese/Brazilian A-team  
> If you'd remember 'Black adder', you knew where cunning plans lead to!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an edited version of the original... Please tell me if you like it.  
> I wrote that one for my sister. She said my story needed more Becks;-)

David was in a good mood. If he was honest, he didn’t remember the last time he had so much fun in his whole life. He loved Paris and the fact that his sweet, but ill tempered wife was busy in London. Weargus Day had been a big party for him. They had no losses to mourn at the club and he was now ready to get, what he was convinced to deserve. The Englishman was almost euphoric, when he thought about the crew he’d put up. During the last years he hab been able to stretch his network from England to the USA and now he had found the perfect... well, person for the dirty work. Zlatan had been a tough guy without a big deal of a conscience, but since the transformation... He had been tall before, but now he was almost a goliath compared to David. And he seemed to have lost his soul, but not his cranky character and that made him a perfect tool for the Witchmaster. David knew how to control this Swedish Daemon. Zlatan was the last piece of his cunning plan.

The week had been horrible in Madrid. Mesut was in a hospital without saying a word about his reasons and Sergio was sick since his break down. The goalkeeper returned to the Sevillano’s appartment after he was sure, that someone took care of the three Germans. Sami was devastated and his girlfriend cried hysterically, while the playmaker just stared without focussing anything. Iker feared his headache would last till eternity. He had to call an ambulance, because the defender didn’t stop puking. This was alarming, because Sergio normally didn’t give away anything he had swallowed. The next day everybody was in a state of shock. It was nasty enough, they were still grieving for Luka and Ángel, but an attempted suicide was a bit too much now.  
After a week Sami came back to practice and the coach had promised them a grave punishment, if anybody dared to annoy the midfielder with questions. The atmosphere in the dressing room was awful and Iker felt completely overburdened. The news he got that morning weren’t good at all. The playmaker still refused to talk and Sergio was so drugged with tranquilizer, that he was not able to speak in full sentences. He’d need his co-captain, soon.  
Ricky took him aside. “You must rest. Please allow me to handle it.” The offer was alluring. “I can help you, but you have to tell me yes!” If Iker hadn’t been sleepless for seven days by now, if he’d been able to get his mind focussed... He would have said ‘no’ to the necromancer... But he was tired, his head felt like it was about to explode. All he wanted was a moment of peace and to stop thinking for only one little second. His knees started to buckle and he nodded as he felt someone laying him down carefully.

Pepe and Marcelo placed the goalkeeper on a couch, while Fábio took off the Spaniard’s shoes and covered him with a blanket “Do you have what you need?” Cristiano watched them from the door, after he made sure, they wouldn’t be disturbed. Ricky smiled. “I don’t need a thing. I already know what I need to.” Cristiano gasped, why did the Brazilian produce such a scene, having Iker forced to give in, if there was no voodoo to be done. The Portuguese raised an eyebrow and his friend giggled. “Look, I want him to believe, that a lot of effort must be put up, so he doesn’t feel bad, because anybody could have done it.” The Mole sighed. All that effort to make sure, nobody noticed, that there wasn’t any effort... Ricky was crazy, but still, he was the only person the Portuguese would trust, if it came to life and death, even more than himself.

Marcelo drove the group to the hospital. He was an expert of all sorts of vehicles, Cristiano made sure the curly haired man learned how to handle as many different types as possible, the moment he showed interest and talent. His transformation into a furry monkey-like joker was only a visual change from the giggling joker Marcelo used to be, but you could count on the guy, whenever he was needed.

Pepe got out first and opened the door of the van for Ricky and Cristiano. The bold headed Portuguese would have been an almost perfect bodyguard, if he had not been that uncontrolable. When the Mole heard his nationalteam colleague had turned into a rhino, he was a little disappointed, cause it meant irrepresseble attacks of anger for the defender. And to be honest, Pepe was far to heavy now to be stopped easily.

Fábio hurried into the foyer and started his show. He was a miserable SOB, and a lousy looser, but unbeatable when it came to diversionary tactics. Cristiano had to admit he liked this guy, who could turn into a cow whenever something went another way as the diva had planned. The defender was entertaining and convinced, Cristiano had a crush on him. He knew Moles did never fall in love, but most of them developed a weakness for someone as a strange kind of compensation for there immoral work on their plans for global dominance. For the blonde man it was obvious: How could anybody not fall for him?  
Cristiano knew better than to tell the truth. There was no need to annoy Fábio, but his heart was lost to the brazilian necromancer with the soft voice and the amazing ability of talking to the dead and telling the future from chickens, he just slaughtered.

The chaos produced by Fábio was nearly perfect. They crossed the hall unnoticed and were able to reach the ward, where they found Sergio shivering in grave fever. Pepe blocked the door, so they wouldn’t be disturbed.

“Will you tell me now, how you’re going to solve this?” Cristiano’s patience was close to end. “Shush! He can hear you.” Was all he got back, he would have killed anyone else for that lack of respect. “Sergio, it’s me, Ricky. Can you hear me?” The Spaniard turned his head. “You must stop fighting this, are you listening? It will burn you, it will eat you up from the inside, if you don’t accept it. You cannot change what you are.” Ricky sat down on the chair Marcelo just put down originally for Cristiano next to the bed. “It’s going to be alright, I promise, I’ll take care of you. I won’t let you harm anybody. You can learn to get along with this.” What the hell was he talking about.

Sami came home early, finding Lena sitting at the kitchentable, staring into her empty cup. “I thought it over.” She said. “We will have to marry and then Mesut can move in.” Sami’s jar dropped open. “Whaoeo hmrm?!?” “I know this is not the most romantic way to ask, but what do you think of my offer? Look, I’m sorry about what happend, I never meant to do any harm and I had no idea how lost he was. If they don’t want him anymore, he should be with us.” She beamed at her completely confused boyfriend. “He can have the guestroom, and if he’s cold, I could make him some cocoa and you could warm both of our feet. I wouldn’t even mind, if he slept in our bed sometimes. It would be like having one more little sister. I even would allow him to wear my jeans...” Sami tried to cut her off, but he should have known his sweethearted darling. “We could go on hollydays with him and if I might get bothered ever again, please remind me, that he’s just afraid of being alone and that I would be the same, if I had been in his shoes. By the way, he will need new shoes, I’m gonna buy with him, his feet are really the last proof, that size doesn’t matter...” She giggled and went on with her monologue, while Sami got himself some orange juice, happy they had that ‘conversation’ in the kitchen.

They left Sergio after Ricky had lulled him to sleep. The Spaniard seemed calm after that and he snored lightly at the midfielder’s voice grew softer. Without making a sound, they stepped out of the room. Heading for the loony bin to find Mesut.  
It was easy for Cristiano to switch off the safety arrangements. A Mole can enter any place he wants without being seen, was not just a common phrase. Again Pepe blocked the door, but Mesut was not half asleep as Sergio. He turned his head and focussed the Brazilian, when they arrived. “Hey nenê.” Ricky was the one to do the talking. “How are you, we’ve been in sorrow.” He hugged the midfielder carefully. “You don’t have to think bad of yourself, just because they don’t understand.” Once again Cristiano had the feeling, he was lacking important information as the Brazilian continued “There is so much love for you, my dear, please understand, that we’ll do what we can, to make them see, how unique you are.” That sentence finally caused a reaction from the German. He leaned into the embrace and began to sob. It was the first time they saw the young man cry and it had an effect on all of them. Marcelo left for the rest room, Fábio sat down on the floor, not thinking about dirtying his white pants. Pepe droped his head and cried along and Cristiano felt a sharp pain in his chest. Watching this kid cry was nearly unbearable. Thank God, Sami had picked him off the pitch after their loss against Italy during the last European championship. But Ricky was determined to keep on going. He pulled the youger one over and placed him like a child on his lap. Mesut rested his head on the Brazilian’s shoulder, his whole body shook as he weeped heavily. “I know, you’ve been hoping so hard for this. I’m sorry, meu amor. But listen, there are people who undestand you. Sami gets each word of you before you say it. Pepe would murder for you and Cris would give you anything you’d ask for.” “Even if it was southern France” rushed through Cristianos mind. But Ricky hadn’t finished yet. “I know all you wanted was someone like you, I’m sorry, you turned out to be the rarest species ever. We both know, there won’t be another one in about 500 years. But don’t be afraid. You are not alone with this. They dropped you, I know, but we can catch you. Let us be your family.” Cristiano froze. Where did this necromancer get his information. He would have to get things done with his network after this. The German calmed down after Ricky rocked him gently and caressed his back for more than two hours. Before they left the sleeping kid, Cristiano switched on the safety arrangements.

 “How did you know what to say?” Finally the Mole was alone with the Brazilian. “If you had not been busy hiding your gorgeous smile, you would have noticed yourself. Each time Sergio lost a bit of his control he smoked a little through his nose.” The Portuguese whistled though his teeth. “And the more he tried to hold back, the more he got ill. He will burn, if he doesn’t find an outlet. He’s scared to death by this feeling. So I told him not to be afraid.” Ricky grinned at this brilliant thought. Cristiano had to admit, it seemed to have worked on the Sevillano. “What about Mesut?” “Hmm, do you still have your facebook account?” the older man didn’t wait for an answer. “After some paprazzi published a picture of him, the whole community discussed, if he was male or female, if this was pervert and some declared him officially gay. After that came a storm of insults and obscenities. And in the end he was contacted by his family asking, if all that was true. Can you imagine how it went on?” The Mole gulped and is friend went on. “And I had a talk with Fernando Torres.” “About Sergio?” “Yes, he hardly switches the subject, but I wanted to hear about a boy named Marko.” Cristiano’s face looked like a question mark. “Marko?” “Yes, he plays for Chelsea. Came from Bremen... Well, I see you get it. They had a thing going on and he was the first one Mesut called after his transfermation. Now Nando told me, they called it off. See, Marko has no interest in girls at all and Mesut turned out to be one, so...” Cristiano waved his hands. “Wait, he’s only fifty percent-“ “No! He’s female 100 percent. AND he’s male 100 percent. Not half-and-half, but one-and-one. And please don’t ask about his alibi girlfriend. They had no cotact at all since the change. So you see there’s plenty of work to do, but now... would you like to be my guest for dinner?” Cristiano nodded “What are you going to serve?” “My wife made chicken kebap.”


	5. How to get up again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A motivating announcement, a burning couch and a furry war...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me if you like it, please... this is the last repost. From now on I'm ready for new stuff... I'm open for suggestions, what species the players, I've not yet decribed, turned into.

Sergio recovered fast. It seemed like an invisible switch flipped and within a month he was back on the pitch. Just in time when the Mister called them for a speech. “We are organizing a friendly with another Spannish team. It will be an important test to see, if we can keep up. We have eight weeks left to decide, who will be among the starters. So there’s plenty of time to convince me of your abilities.” “Who’s the other team?” Iker was happy to hear, they were moving on finally, after the federation had cancelled all matches of la liga for the remaining season. “Oh, I’ve forgotten to tell? Braça, of course.”  
It worked as a fine motivation. Everyone spent a lot more time on the pitch or pumping iron. Álvaro started laughing again and discovered, that he had fun hunting Karim across the pitch, untill the pointy eared Frenchman jumped up the goal and they had to get a ladder to bring him down again.  
Sergio was working harder than ever before. He needed to feel completely empty at the end of the day or he knew he would literally go up in flames. But sometimes at night he still woke up, standing in the middle of his appartment with a broken chair in his hand. He was convinced he had turned into a monster, just waiting for the trigger to change him into Mister Hyde. And sometimes he felt, like he’d forgotten something important, something his life might depend on, but he could not make up his mind. Three weeks later it cought him unprepared, he burned so fast, they had to extinguish the couch he had been sitting on. Finally he could stop fearing he might burn down to ashes. He was just igniting anything around him.

Zizou brought Mesut to the club house. He had promised to take care of the young man, not to leave him alone and to bring him back to the hospital after the visit. When the team noticed the German in the lounge, most of them were to excited to be discreet, but Sami managed to sit next to his friend and Mesut obviously enjoyed leaning against his teammate.  
Fàbio remembered his plan of... studying the hybrid’s body as soon as possible. He stayed close, carefully not bothering the shy midfielder. When he suddely noticed a strong smell of burning leather and melted platic.

It was a nightmare for Iker. He was so glad to have Sergio back, not only physically, but the old, joke cracking weirdo, he had been before. The defender was a friend and unbeatable, when it came to building up a positiv atmosphere in the team. And now that! “Relax, it’s just a couch. He’s in flames, not burning down.” Ricky had to scream the words so the goalkeeper would hear him through the rising chaos. “Impressing, like the red bull from the last unicorn.” “Do you think he might force Pepe into the ocean?” Álvaro and Karim burst out. “I am a rhino, not a silly unicorn!” Before Pepe could be more provocated, Xabi finished the discussion by pouring a bucket of water he grabed from a cleaning lady’s hand over Sergio. Cristiano slowly removed the rag from the Spaniard’s steaming head. “Wow, that looked hot.” Fàbios sharp tongue, caused a laughter of relieve. “Would you explaine what just happend?” Zidane focussed Sergio, who did something he had never done before:. He blushed.

No there was no easy explanation. Sergio had been struck by lightning for the second time in his life. He remembered the the first time very well now. How could he have even forgotten that view? He had a horrible headache from missjudging his own height after the transformation and was brought to the MRI. When he was waiting for his turn to be examined, he caught a short glimpse on the person in the room. He had passed out and was unable to remember that incident later, the doctors told him he had been dizzy because of his injury. But it was comming back to him now.  
Sergio had always been suffering from being bisexual. He lived with the knowledge of never being satisfied with one partner. Being secretly a hopeless romantic, he felt damned to a life of solitude, although there were lovers aplenty, when he reached out his hand. But he was longing for the one big love, for the point, when you know what’s right, for the feeling, to have all you ever need in your arms. He knew it was childish and stupid, but he was kind of jelous of his siblings and their luck. The Sevillano had never been completely and helplessly in love, till that moment. There he was! Or she? His thoughts tumbled. He couldn’t even look at THIS, if he wanted his heart to stay in his chest. Sergio passed out, agian.

Mesut was shocked. He had been looking forward to meet the team again. And he was relieved, that noone seemed to be mad at him for causing so much trouble. Still his bad conscience was not gone. He had made Sami cry. The person, who had never asked for a reason, when he called him for help, for support or for company. Sami had always been there, regardless. Now Lena had offered him to move in with them and he was unable to decide what to do. He didn’t want to bother them. The blonde girl had always been standing between the friends and now she had told him to stay. He had no idea how to deal with it. Meeting the Sevillano was one reason he was that happy to be out. He had not talked to Sergio since the transformation and he needed the advice of the weird Spaniard more than ever before. He needed someone to make him laugh again and to forget all the nasty things that had happend. But now he found his friend in a terrible state, faking a smile , that might be enough to fool Iker, but not him, before igniting like a dry match and fainting.

Zizou joined the coaches after he made sure Sami wouldn’t leave Mesut’s side. “About our little burning cow...” “We cannot risk to let him play, untill we make sure he doesn’t kill somebody.” The Mister grumbled. “It’s not over yet. Look, Iker for example, still has problems folding his wings, but they will break, if he gets knocked there.” Rui leaned forward. “Let’s hope Vilanova is in similar trouble.” The frenchman smiled. “You can be sure of that. I’ve managed to see pictures of them practicing and... Iniesta falls over his four legs all the time and their perfect megastar still doesn’t have shoes fitting his goatfeet.” “You are joking?!” “He’s not.” Florentino barged in.

Mesut found a moment of time for himself. He told Sami, he had to make an important call and it was no lie. He needed someone independent to help him out. So he dialed a number, he hadn’t used for quiet some time. “Hey Hobbit, I’m surprised you remember the old man.” The friendly voice was all comfort and laughter. “I’m sorry, I... had a lot to do?” It was a very sad try of an apology, but it was all he had to offer at that moment. “Sweety, you promised me never to cross that line again.” The voice turned serious, but stayed soft. “I was in deep sorrow when I read about, you were trying to fly again.” The midfielder gasped. So it had been in the news “You know, I always keep an eye on you, even from this devilish place. Please tell me, you’re not planning any more of that stuff.” Mesut sank back into the back of the sofa. “I didn’t do it on pupose. I...” His voice broke and he knew he couldn’t hold back the tears. He hated behaving like a girl. “Shush, please don’t cry, you know, I can hardly handle you, when you do.” “I need your advice.” He remembered why he called. Maybe focussing on his questions would help. “What wisdom do you want from the old man?” “Sami and Lena asked me to move in, but I don’t want to be a burden. At least I must live somewhere and I can’t go back to my place.” “Hobbit, all you need is some time. Can you stay with someone else? What about this defender you are so fond of?” “Sergio is ill... and we’re just friends, please, don’t tease me with this now. It’s enough, I feel like a pervert. I don’t fit into my clothes, cannot wear my shoes and since yesterday I’m having big trouble controling myself, I act like a diva!” He swore, he could hear the other man’s smile at the end of the line. “Look, don’t rush into anything. Take you time, maybe you can live with Lena and Sami, it doesn’t have to be forever. You’ll get by, you’re a fighter. I know that for sure. And remember, if someone drops you, you have the chance to be cought by someone else. You always felt like an alien among them, you told me yourself. When you tried to jump in Bremen, it was because of them. You were scared of what might happen, if they find out about Marko. If Per had not been there to hold you...” “Please, don’t remind me.” “It led you to a relationship with a bad-tempered hooker, who never knew, she was just an alabi to distract your family.” He was right, but still Mesut felt lost without someone teling him what to do next. “Mäuschen? Are you still listening?” The playmaker humed. “Let me suggest something. You take time to think and in the meantime you do something for yourself. I’m sure a haircut would do you good, have some spa, buy nice things to wear, get new shoes. Learn what your new body likes and what it doesn’t. Will you do this for me?” “Yes,” Mesut’s voice was very quiet now. “Thank you, Miro.” “Call me whenever you need to. I’ll be there for you, Hobbit.”

Two days later Mesut was allowed to leave the hospital as long as he would not stay alone. He decided to move into his best friend’s apartment.

Karim was about to go beserk, Álvaro went to far. He had been hunting him down for weeks, everytime Iker was not watching. It was time to teach that baby a lesson. The frenchman was well aware, the Spaniard was not only taller, but also stronger than him. But, to hell, he was just a coltish, stupid puppy in need of a good smacking! Karim was a cat. That should’ve been enough to tell he was superiour. Everyone knew that about cats and dogs. Well, Karim knew... He needed a plan, to get Morata to understand that, too.  
It included goodies. Álvaro followed a squeaking noise up the stairs and was guided through the corridor, picking up cookie by cookie. And as Karim closed the door behind the dog, he couldn’t hide an evil smile. Revenge for his glass of water the Spaniard had drooled into!  
Gonzalo was watching both strikers for quite some time. Of course he wanted to be among the starters, but with Karim and Álvaro behaving like little pets playing beasts of prey, he saw trouble ahead. The team couldn’t survive with only one striker. He screwed up his courage and followed them upstaires to the guest rooms. The view he caught, as he silently opened the door made him grin. That was unexpected.  
The little puppy lay shirtless on his back, while the purring Kitten caressed his belly and simultaniously licked that very special spot, Macelo dicovered lately, behind Álvaro’s left ear. The boy was humming blissfully, all enjoying his pittiful helplessness. Pipita couldn’t resist to enter the room. They looked so cosy and fluffy, he just had to join them.

Fábio lifted his head. There was a fine smell, of fruit and wipped cream combined with a tiny bit of vanilla and... “Hallo?” Mesut seemed to search for something. “Olá querido, can I help you?” The Portuguese tried to sound as nice as possible, although he was not used to. “I, hmmm, I was looking for Cris. Have you seen him?” The defender smiled carefully. “He’s still having a shower. Maybe I can help you? What’s up?” The midfielder scurried nervously to one of the benches. “I wanted to ask,” the young German blushed “I need a haircut, and I wanted to ask, if Cris knew a good address and...” “Yes?” “I know, he visits that spa-place sometimes and...” This time Fábio held his tongue. Destiny had just given him a chance he was ready to use, but suddenly he felt a familiar weight on his shoulder and had to concentrate on not looking like he had been caught doing something forbidden.  
”I’m happy to obey. Please allow me to arrange an appointment for you.” Cristiano beamedas he removed his hand from Fábio’s shoulder. He was so glad to do something for the boy, he completely forgot about his teeth. The defender couldn’t help but whistle at the look of an astonishing number of shiny, white shark-ivories that had replaced Cristiano’s back teeth. When the Mole noticed their stare, his face froze and in a second his confidence was blown away. “Wow,” the defender whispered “that is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Mesut reached out and touched the older man’s cheek. His hand felt soft and cold, but there was no trace of fear or disgust in his big doe eyes.


	6. Soul-Spa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A facial massage, an apple and the Spanish Inquisition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was thinking about these Monty Python's spots, when I wrote this  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tym0MObFpTI  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m07ISfx_5b0

Iker had not been successful interogating Sergio and now the goalkeeper was desperate enough to do somemthing the defender would not like.  
Sergio had avoided to contact his family since the transformation. They all had been busy getting along with the changes themselves and he had been able to assure his brother he was fine. Iker had no choice but inviting Rene to tell him the truth and help him with his co-captain. When Iker drove to the Sevillano’s apartment to meet with his consirator, he was sure of having done the right thing. But there was a surprise ahead for the goalkeeper.  
When he opend the door, the rich smell of a good-spiced paella filled his nose and he gulped as he saw, who he had invited in!  
”Iker, dear! You look amazing. Sit down and eat with us. I was so happy to hear from you. I had planned to come but, you know, there was a lot to do... Daniela as got the flu and the stud... Cuqui, don’t stand around like this, give our friend a drink. I’ve brought oranges, you guys must be longing for something to eat. Boys at your age are always hungry, it’s healthy for you to eat enough! Sese, move now! Let Iker sit down...” The older man felt guilty. He had not expacted Señora Paqui Ramos to come herself. He had to admit, he was sorry for his friend. Of course, Sergio loved his mother, he adored her and he was ready to do whatever she aked from her youngest son, but her presence in Madrid meant a lot of stress for both players. He had had no intention to invite her, when he talked to Rene. “Daniela passed the flu to my eldes, so I decided to look if Cuqui was allright, but this place was a mess! And the fridge...” The men shared a look. Iker was obviously sorry and Sergio couldn’t be mad on him. It had been a matter of time untill she’d invade his apartment.

Cristiano had to promise to look after Mesut and to guard him with his life, untill Sami agreed to let them spend the day off together.Again Lena apeared as a kind and understanding ally to Mesut. He had told her, what they were planning to do and she was happy, he finally got the desire of allowing himself a break...  
Cristiano fetched the boy quite early and drove to the most exclusive place he knew when it came to relaxing. He had booked whatever he thought the German would like. He had nothing left to chance, had planned the new hairtyle for the kid and made sure, the boy felt like it was his own idea. The playmaker had no sense for aesthetics and no clue, how to make the best of himself. He indeed needed a makeover. With the soft dark hair carefully shortend he looked like the incarnation of the word androgyny. He had been pampered with mud, oil and chocolate and was enjoying a tea-break before his next treatment, when suddenly Fábio sat down next to him.  
“Olá querido, I’m happy to see you here. Do you like it?” The Portuguese had risked a lot to get the date of that appointment. He even spyed Cristiano’s cellphone, and he knew, if he’d been caught, the Mole would have put him into his little, black book, which meant an unforeseen and cruel death. As the German beamed at him, he knew, it had been worth the danger. “This must be the best place in whole Madrid. I’ve been never treated like this before...” The midfielder couldn’t stop going into rhapsodies about his day. “I’m glad, to see your smile again, you are the luckiest fellow around. Your position is so enviable.” He had planned that sentence carefully and the boy reacted exactly like he’d expected him to. His huge eyes turned wide and sad “How do you mean that, I guess, we’re all lucky to have survived, but aside I’m the winner of the my-life-was-destroyed-by-Weargus-Day-Award.” Fábio looked at him in perfectly faked lack of understanding. “I mean, look at me, I’m neither fish nor fowl. Noone likes me like that, even myself...” That was the moment the defender had waited for. He knew, Cristiano would be having a facial massage for more than half an hour, so they wouldn’t be disturbed. “What are you talking about, meu amor? Oh, I guess you have not thought about IT, yet...” The Portuguese made a short pause to give the younger man a moment to become curious. He took an apple from a fruit basket on the table and handed it to the midfielder. “Listen, I’m going to tell you a little story, and I’m sorry for the location it’s acting, but give me the chance to finish. O.k.?” He was sure of Mesut’s undivided attention. “On the eighth day, when God went to his creatures, he spoke to them ‘I have two abilities left. Please decide yourself, how to share them.’ Eve asked ‘What did you bring?’ ‘The first one is the ability to pee while standing.’ And Adam called out ‘I need to have that one!’ Eve leaned foreward and asked ‘What is the second one?’ ‘Multiple orgasms.’”

When Sami returned from the training, he was happy to find both of his ‘girls’ at home, but he was surprised, as they came out of the bathroom together holding hands and giggling along. “Tomorow we are going on a shopping tour.” Lena’s words didn’t leave any room for protest. Mesut can’t walk around in my pants and your old shirts forever. She had kind of adopted the playmaker after she realized, there was nothing sexual in between her fiancé and his hoarded treasure. Sami imagined himself already carrying around tons of bags, when she disrupted his thoughts. “You don’t have to go with us. I know, you hate it.” Well, Lena was determined, Sami would have to obey, if he didn’t want to risk another storm accompnied by heavy rain in the appartment.

Iker had a very bad conscience leaving Sergio alone after Señora Ramos had stuffed both with nearly twelve pounds of her delicious paella, but he had no choice, he would never be able to help the Sevillano against this woman.  
”So, I see you’re in a miserable state of mind Cuqui.” The defender dropped his head. He knew he had a snowball’s chance in hell to hide something from his mother. “Come here and tell me what’s wrong.” As she pulled him on the couch and into her arms, he felt like a child again. He sighed as he gave in and started to talk. “Mamá, if there was a person, I’d really care for, would you support me whoever it was?” She gently stroke his hair as she answered “As long as it’s not that horrible striker, who’s now in England...” Sergio coughed. How could he have ever thought to be able to conceal something from his mother. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice your affairs? I know all about the gils and guys my baby dated. But you sound serious this time. Looks like my little one is gowing up finally.” Sergio let her hugg him closer, he snuggled against his mother’s shoulder and although he was nearly half a metre taller than her, he felt safe for the first time since weeks. So he did what felt most naturally at this moment. He opend his heart and told her about his misery, his solitude, his jelousy for his siblings and his panic to hurt his shy teammate, he cared so much about. The words where accompanied by many tears, he had been holding back far too long.

Cristiano was suspicious of Fábio since a few weeks. The defender had been much to kind with him and Mesut since the first workout with the German and Cristiano wasn’t stupid. He was sure the diva was about to do something, he needed the playmaker for. Now that he’d found them after his facial massage, having some tea together, he felt his assumptions confirmed. He never trusted Fábio, was sure this guy would be capable of selling his own grandmother for his benefit. Not to be misunderstood, he admired that trait, but the Mole had to be careful. Mesut was far to precious to be ruined by the blonde man. He needed the German for his salvation and, even more important, for his son’s. He should plan, how to get rid of the defender, in case it had to be done fast. Poison would be of no use, the effect was to slow, if it should look like a natual death.

After Ricky had given the club’s legal department a hint to have a look at Mesut’s facebook and Twitter account, a campaign was planned to help with the images of all players. Cristiano had managed to give some internal, ‘secret’ information to the press, about a lost, sad and extremely shy German midfielder, whose golden heart broke, when his family dropped him, after some racists started to spam his pinboard. The printed stories topped all expectations. Marca’s headline called him a poor orpahn, el Pais published a touching report about his struggle, when he changed into this ‘magnificent and unique person of pure beauty’ and el Mundo printed an absurd survey, which proved, that more than 80% of all Spaniards would like to adopt the modest creature, no matter if he was male, female or both. Even a fan-forum of Barça was filled with kind commets about ‘el mago’ and his suffering.Cristiano was more than satified with the result. It wouldn’t take long to make a profitable trademark from the kid.

Iker took Sergio aside, when the defender entered the dressing room the next day. “I’m really sorry for what happend yesterday, I exspected Rene to visit you, cause I felt you needed help. But...” “Noone expects the Spanish Inquisition.” The Sevillano smiled “No, it was the best thing to happen. My mother is... well, one of a kind, but she knows how to kick my ass.” Iker grinned, he could tell, this time his friend did not fake a smile. He nodded and headed to the pitch.  
Sergio took the time for a long look in the mirror. His face had not changed a lot, only his nose was a bit flatter, but he was still the same good looking guy with no lack of confidence for his appearance. He wouldn’t screw it. He would have to be careful, but he knew, he could make Mesut love him. He would hunt him down, hold and protect him. He would make things right. It would take time and effort, but he could wait untill the German was ready for him. The biggest problem would be to pass Sami, but Sergio was determined to risk a conflict with the dragon. “She will be mine.” He was diverted by his Mantra, when he followed Iker and nearly crashed into Fábio.

Ricky leaned at his locker. He watched his teammates change and shook his head. There was still so much to do. Fábio was surely heading for trouble and the Brazilian could only guess which decision Sergio finally made. At least Mesut seemed a whole lot more solid, after Cristiano’s spa-therapy, but he could sense a big cloud above the German’s head, which would release it’s cold shower very soon. And the Mole was already in a maelstrom of politics, murder and intrigue, as it had always been typical for the species. But Cristiano had two big disadvantages: He had a soul, which made him sentimental and blocked him, when it came to reacting fast and ruthless. AND for a Mole, participating in the big game of their society he was much to young. Moles had been controling many parts of the world before Weargus Day, but none of the leading guys was under the age of 400 years. Ricky knew, Cristiano was not much older than seventy, but now he had been caught up in the fight about the Iberian Peninsula and Ricky was afraid, the Portuguese was not ready, yet. He had been hoping for a morning star, guiding them through the dark times that followed the transformation of mankind, but till now he had been waiting in vain. He would have to ask the ancients for a signal, it would take great amount of his energy, but he would have to lay all his hope in the caring hands of the spirits. They’d never disappointed him, but what if there was no light in that darkness.  
”Hallo?” A sweet voice woke him from his grieve thoughts. He turned and looked into a pair of big, gentle eyes. “Will you teach me some tricks?” Ricky smiled affectionated at the androgyn boy. “I think, it would be more the other way around, nenê.” The kid giggled as his face blushed and the Brazilian felt a sudden, peaceful calmness covering his mind. Everything would be alright in the end.

David didn’t trust his eyes. There it was: The key to dominance! With this under his thumb, he could build an army, to fight for his interests. Again, the Englishmen blinked at the screen of his notebook. He had been reading the Sun for his own amusement, since they started to report on him. He’d never dreamed, they could give him such an important information! After the Spanish press had started a big campain about a German player, the British followed. This boy had a lot of fans in the UK, although he kind of caused the elimination of the English team in 2010. Still, the press loved him. Now he had grown into the rarest and most precious creature David could imagine. “This, THIS is perfect!” He needed him at his side, needed to have his hands on the mind of this kid, to make him support the witchmaster’s plans. David smirked. He had the perfect tool, to bring this boy to Paris, with might and main, if necessary...


	7. It looks like rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shopping tour, a cup of cold coffee and a humming baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again for my sister. I promised more Becks, so here he comes! And by the way, please tell me what you think of it.

David was on his way to Madrid. Finally things would be going on. He had waited long enough and now the American witchmaster, a brunette actor, who had taken over France some years ago, had left for sometime, to work in Hollywood. He saw his chance now. All he had to do, was grabing the boy, bring him back to Paris and make sure, he would do, what he was told. The German didn’t seem to be too bright, so manipulating shouldn’t be the biggest problem. AND he had someone to do the kidnapping for him. David was perfectly prepared to impliment his cunning plan.

Sami had to get up early, leaving his bed grudgingly, but he had to be at Valdebebas in time. He glanced back at the warm and cosy bed. Normally he had no problems in the morning, but today... When he got up, his two ‘girls’ just closed the gap he left, hugging each other, snoring a little and cuddling in sleep. HIS TWO ‘GIRLS’... They kind of filled a cliché, when it came to their appearance: The tall, blond model, with the sunny smile and the bright eyes and his indigo haired teammate, with the pale skin and the huge black eyes, that never laughed, even after winning the championchip in 2009 these dark orbs had stayed sad. Sami grinned, when he thought about last evening. They had been watching a movie Lena had chosen, some weird british comedy and as they both knew by now, it took about quarter an hour until Mesut had fallen asleep. He always had been this way and since he moved in, Lena seemed to think of it as the charming little habit as Sami did. After she switched off the TV, she had opened the doors for him to carry the midfielder to bed and as she didn’t head for the guest room, but lead her fiancé to their bedroom, they ended up snuggled against each other while sleeping.  
Mesut was still on strong medication of various psychotropic drugs, he needed a lot of time to regenerate, so he was told to skip most of the practice and Lena had some sparetime in between two jobs. So it was Sami to leave them alone, with duty calling him. Today his ‘girls’ were planning their shopping tour, maybe it wasn’t bad after all to be out working. One more time he looked at them and felt lucky, they got along so well.

Cristiano was in a bad constitution. He had been hunting down a rival for the dominance in Spain for three weeks and yesterday, they finally met in a shabby factory building. Of course, both had been cheating. The other Mole had brought two sidekicks for the dirty work, but he had misjudged the Portuguese. Cristiano had been prepared. All bigger clubs trained their players some fighting skills, just in case, the transformation would be followed by a civil war. There were three common ways of fighting to be learned: Guards were kind of the defence, ready to secure a place or to shield a person, steady guys, to make sure no one would pass them. Strikers had to be faster, called themselves knights, challenging an enemy, prepared to walk into a battle not waiting for it to come close to them. AND there were few assasins, ready to attack from behind, before the opponent was prepared. Normally an athlete learned one of these types, according to his physical properties. Cristiano had been practicing guarding in Lisbon, striking in Manchester and assassinating in Madrid. It was the ace up his sleeve compared to other Moles, who always needed someone around to do the fighting for them. He was not afraid of dirtying his hands, and he had done it that said night. Ricky was cracking up, when he found out, and it was the satisfying part for the Portuguese. The Brazilian cared about him.

Lena and Mesut got up late and went to have breakfast in a nice, little café. The blonde girl had been sceptica,l how they’d get along living together, but she was convinced now. The midfielder was a quiet flatmate with an addiction to clean up the appartment and the abilities of a gourmet-cook. If she was honest, the place had never been so spick and span before and today she was ready to pay him back for his good deeds. She knew, he had big problems finding fitting clothes, because he was still searching the wrong places. His silhouette had changed into a boyish/girlish shape, with a flat chest, legs to die for and a well formed butt. The model had forced her shy companion to the agreement, that he would try on whatever she chose. He needed new pants and shirts and shoes... Lena was excited to do this makeover, she completely missed the sad look in Mesut’s doe eyes, that grew each time he looked into the mirror. After she made him wear some shorts and a slim shirt, she found him crying in the changing cubicle. The sight hit her hard, as the boutique slowly filled with clouds and all she was able to do was reaching out and hug him. “What’s up with you, coração?” The gentle voice of a brown haired woman filled the cubicle. “Hey ,meu amor, what’s making you sad.” She leaned foreward and her white, fluffy wings stroke soft over the playmaker’s face. He was too messed-up to hold his tongue. “I’m not myself anymore!” “But nenê, you are beautiful. There’s no reason to be sad. Everyone has changed,you know? It’s part of God’s masterplan to make us better.” “But what if I’m not part of his plan at all? What if I’m all evil,...” His voice broke. The dark haired woman took out her cellphone and dialed. “Can you come home early anjo? I think, I’ve discovered a philosophical problem, that needs to be taken care of.”

Mourinho was surprised by the harmonious sweetness among the strikers of the team. He was sure, if the three went on being all dear and cute, the whole team might die of a grave diabetes in the end. He had hoped the expectation of el clássico would raise the pressure of competition and by that the motivation to show commitment. Now he found out, he had been wrong, when it came to Karim, Álvaro and Gonzalo. They stuck together more than ever before. Maybe it was still the mourning for Ángel... He had to be careful with the guys. Looking foreward to the game, he had no reason to cheer. All his players were far from being on top form. Iker’s wings disturbed the goalkeeper’s balance, however he positioned them. Pepe was ready to punch everbody down, who tried to pass him on the pitch, a reaction, which was very effective, but would lead to an early red card, what would be very ineffective.... Sergio seemed to have recovered since his last ignition, but what if it happened again? The Sevillano had looked quite firm before he had lit the couch in the lounge...  
And the midfield! O.k., the mister could count on Khedira and Alonso. The German got along with his changes very well: His reptile skin was robust, and his taller size had equalized the increased weight when he was running. Xabi’s biggest problem after his transfermation were his eyes. He had been complaining, a habit he never had before, whenever there was a trace of sunlight, but the issue was easily solved by some tight dark glasses. AND after some tests, they were sure, the serious Spaniard had improved his ability of focussing on the game. Nothing escaped the midfielder on the pitch. But the rest of them...! Essien and Callejon were still in the hospital, making sure they wouldn’t hurt themselves accidentally. Özil was drugged because of his breakdown and had lost a lot of his constitution, when he had turned into a girl, although the first tests during the practise had been very auspicious. But the German still had a long way to go, when it came to his mental state and the Mister didn’t want to do any damage to the kid, there had been enough harm and pressure from the family. And there was another problem child on the coach’s list: Ricardo Izecson dos Santos Leite. The Brazilian had been suffering from various injuries during the last two years. They both knew, that it was only a matter of time, when the physical exertion would be too much for the midfielder. All hope, the transformation could make a difference for Ricky had been balked as the gentle guy’s body didn’t change a bit. With the improvement of most other athletes, Kaká and the Mister had to face the fact, that there wouldn’t be a long future for the former world player of the year. And today the Brazilian came up with an inconceivable question, he had never asked any coach before. He wanted to go early.

Zizou looked up from his desk. “Are you O.K.?” He hadn’t even noticed the boss entering his office. “Where have you been with your thoughts? I was watching you for nearly five minutes.” Still the Frenchman was unable to answer. Yes, he had been far away... It had been his decision not telling anybody about his personal loss, he feared the wincing looks, the offers of condolence and the change of behaviour people show, whenever they have pity on someone. He did not want that! At least he had to tell Florentino and was relieved to find the boss respecting his choice of discretion. After the loss of his complete family the Frenshman had focussed on his work for the club. The boys needed advice and guidance in many ways and most of them would listen to their idol. That’s why he did a lot of the communication for the management with the players.  
Zizou was a tough guy, he always had been, but every now and then his thoughts went off to a little estate in southern France, where he had planned to spend the evening of his life with people he had loved, who were now gone forever. He would have to find a new life-task or he knew, it might drive him insane. As the Frenchman took a sip of his coffee, he noticed it was already cold. “It looks like rain.” Florentino had not given up on him for now. Still somewhere else with his thoughts he responded “Yes, but it tasts like coffee.”

Ricky fetched the children before he drove home. Caroline was still busy, rescueing the whole neighbourhood after the transformation. He loved her for being such an affectionate aid in the district and the child care at the club was a good chance for the kids to learn a proper social behaviour. When he entered the house, he noticed the smell of damp wall paper and the sound of dripping carpet under his feet. Slowly he walked over to the living room and found his wife on the couch, hugging someone, Ricky recognised immediatly. “Hey nenê, what is it this time?” He sank down next to Mesut, who had turned into a picture of misery. “He believes himself being bad.” Caroline talked for the German. “I told him, he was heavensend, but he doesn’t even listen...” The older playmaker shook his head. “I guess he’s told a hundred times each day, but he doesn’t understand...” Ricky gasped at his own words. Of course, the boy didn’t get it, it was to complex for him, if it was only explained by words. The Darkelve’s language had always been gesture, mimic and empathy. If they wanted the child to understand, they would have to show it in another way! “I think, I know how to handle this, but I guess, I should use the bathroom first.” “I never doubted, you could help that little, lost angel.” Caroline beamed at her husband. “But please go upstairs anjo, I had to put the girl into the shower, because she couldn’t stop raining indoors.

Cristiano had no intetion of throwing a party. He was still tired from murdering a dull rival and his ridiculous hitmen. But as he drove home, Marcelo managed to accompany and after they arrived, he let Pepe and Fábio in. “Come on, we just wanted to see if your cat is still that evil!” It was a flimsy excuse for invading the Portuguese’s noble loft for using his huge TV. Cristiano did the only thing, he could: He ordered some food, removed the most expensive pillows and arranged with the situation, when the doorbell went again. “Have you invited someone else? If it’s a girl, we might be sorry...” The end of Pepe’s speech ended up with laughter by the gang. As Cristiano was heading for the door, he sent a short prayer for help with these slobs and found Ricky along with Mesut waiting for him to open. “Cris, we need to meet your son.” Lately Ricky had created an ability to get the Mole making stupid faces, but he seemed to have become a pro on that, now. “What?... I mean... WHAT? Ricky, I have no idea what your up to, but stop freaking me out!” The Brazilian noticed the stressed look on his younger friends face and his voice softend promptly. “Good evening Cris, can we please come in. Mesut has some philosophical problems, that can only be solved by your baby-son.” Cristiano was still confused, but as he realized the teary eyes of the slender German, he stepped aside and waved them in. No one should call him a bad host. “Be careful, I have not seen the cat for today and I guess, that’s a bad sign...” The Portuguese had the most horrifying pet one could imagine. La Infanta was always ready to scream, scratch, bite or to scare people to death. She had been a gift by a sheik, Cristiano had met on hollydays and he was sure, that cat was be the most highborn and expensive pet in whole Spain. AND he knew for sure, he would kill the beast, if he found it close to his son! But as the monster hid itself most of the time, only driving guests and all girls he brought to this place insane, he kind of arranged with Infanta.  
As he led the two playmakers to his private rooms away from the crowded living room, he felt his curiousity rise. “What’s the problem?” He had hoped for an answer from the German, but if he was honest, it would have been unlikely under normal circumstances and now, with the kid looking like a fawn caught in a flashlight, there was no way he would talk. “It’s about salvation, being good and God’s great masterplan.” Ricky’s gaze stopped Cristiano from saying something stupid right now. Moles did not believe in a God, but the Portuguese’s respect for his friend was too big, to offend the Brazilian. The baby was still awake and welcomed them with a cheerful purring as he reached out his tiny hands towards the German. Mesut automatically bent down and lifted the child to sit down with him on an armchair. The midfielder blinked twice as the toddler began to humm in a strange way “Hmmmmhmmmmhmmmmhmmm...” “Well, look here, he’s already learning your name.” Ricky smiled. “You made him that blissful some weeks ago and he has not stopped smiling since then. How can you not be heavensend, if you saved that baby’s soul.” Mesut looked up, but he didn’t focus the Brazilian, his big eyes rested on Cristiano, who had been understanding the sweet and unfamiliar sound his son kept making. But as the boy turned back to the child in his arms, a gentle and peaceful shine was back on his face. If he had rescued this innocent human being and the hopeless case, Cristiano had been, he couldn’t be evil, maybe he could even be good...

The Englishman was stupid enough to trust him. He really thought he was the one to be the master... Oh, this was a chance, you don’t get twice! He chuckled, as he sat down next to David in the sports car. He would do it, as he always did, wait, watch and let his instincts take over, when the time was right for action. He would not obey! He had big plans of his own! Closing hs eyes, he slowly reached out to grab the steering wheel in the Englishman’s hand. He was prepared for the crash.


	8. The world keeps turning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A joke, a question and a decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the bad writing, I was to lazy to correct it properly... Still waiting for your suggestions, what to do with some of the players ;-)

“What time is it? Zizou noticed the worried look in Florentino’s eyes. “Past two o’clock. Go home! You cannot sleep in this office, at least have a shower and change your clothes. Some sleep in a bed might help you, too...” The boss was right. The frenchman had stayed too long, he wanted to avoid thinking, sleeping and most important dreaming of them. But he knew, it was useless. “You can come back tomorrow and do your weird crossword puzzles with the boys, although I don’t think they will know any of these...” Florentino pointed at the newspaper on Zidane’s desk. Yes, maybe this would be entertaining. As the Fenchman headed for the door, Florentino grabed his arm. “If you need help with this situation, please call me, even at this time of the night.” Zizou was sure all he needed was a task, a mission, the feeling of being needed. “José had asked me for a talk, do you have any idea, what he’s up to?” Florentino shrugged. Since the coach had grown eight brains, no one knew, what he was up to.

Ricky woke up to the sound of tiny feet sneaking through the house in the middle of the night. He turned to the side to catch a glimpse of the clock, nearly half past three... Then again, a strange slipping noise! The Brazilian sat up as he noticed Caroline on her way to the door. “You’ve heard it, too?” As she looked at him over her shoulder, he could sense her discomfort. “Do you think there’s something wrong with the boy?”  
Mesut had been invited to spend the night in Ricky’s guest room. After the visit at Cristiano, the kid had been so tired, he nearly fell asleep in the car and Caroline had managed to get Sami out of the house. She convinced him, they’d take care of his hoard and that Lena needed some extra attention tonight, after she nearly flooded the entire ground floor. Ricky had to admit, he was very impressed, how his wife handled a worried Ancient Dragon and a Stormfaerie.  
The hallway was completely dark and empty, but wasn’t there a weak flickering in the guest room? As the couple slowly opened the door, the sight made both of them smile. Luca and Isabella had found their way to this room by the flimsy light of the boy’s torch. Ricky was still wondering how his baby girl had made it upon the mattres, when Caroline wispered “Do you think it’s O.K. to let them sleep here? Have you checked Mesut’s soul?” The older playmaker nodded. “His ego is gentle and clean, he’s like fresh fallen snow. You can relax, I check all our guests, you remember? In this case, I might say, I could do one of my treatments, without purifying him before. And you know, children have a excellent sense of this. So if they decide to be close to Mesut...” His dark haired wife eased a little. “Don’t you think, they disturb him?” Well, that was the woman, he had married. Always caring for everyone. “No, I think it will be alright. Sami said, once Mesut is asleep, you can put him upside down. And he sounded like he tested.” Ricky kissed the back of her head and as his hands stroke down her sides, he felt a second spirit right under her heart.

Zidane had his talk with Mourinho before the boys arrived. “You wanted to see me?” It felt more like he had been brought to trial. “Yes, close the door, this is quite personal.” The small remark made the frenchman even more uneasy, but the older man continued. “I have noticed you were kind of... searching for something useful to do. I might have a job for you. But first, have some tea with me.” There was no way Zizou wouldn’t recognize the strong herbal smell, that filled the room. The former world player was a Druid, he knew everything about plants and their effects on the human body and mind. This was a strong remedy for a grave depression. “Do I look so bad?” “No, but I can see what’s beyond the surface and some of the boys said they were worried... Look Zizou, I need your help. There’s a storm rising in south America and it’s only a matter of time, till it arrives in Europe.” The Frenchman had heard about some strong black magic in the West, but he had no idea, what the Portuguese wanted him to do. “It’s because of Cristiano, you know, he’s drawned into something big. He’s much to young to be into that political stuff. But, if we support him at the right spots, we might be able to prevent a catastrophy. You know, Mesut is the key to this?” Zidane knew, although he had not wanted to see. The kid was kind of special for him. For though everybody praised him to the skies, the German stayed modest, shy, blushing at each compliment, never faking something and never hurting someone. “I see, he has done his impressing magic on you, too. Never mind, I don’t think, he does it on pupose and this ability of conquering hearts faster than Ronaldo and Ramos combined might become useful one day. But we have to be careful, it could be a problem, if this power is utilised the wrong way.” The Mister looked up and straight into the eyes of the Frenchman. “I’m sure, there will be a lot of dirty work to be done, but till then, would you take care of Mesut this morning? For my opinion he’s spending o much time talking to Fábio. Maybe someone should tell him, the consequences of being a girl, when it comes to boys, filled up with testosterone.”

Sergio was determined to make no mistakes. He had no idea, how to avoid them, but he was ready to learn. Since Nando had stopped spamming his answering machine, he felt free to concentrate on the future. Sergio was a little nostalgic about his affair with the striker, but he had never loved the guy anyway. It was only fair, to break up. He knew, it was the last practice before their big tryout and the mood in the locker room was much too stressed for his opinion. It was time for action. “How does Cris change a light bulb?” All heads turned into his direction. It had been a while since he placed his last Cris-joke. The Portuguese grunted, he knew, the peace wouldn’t last for long. The Spaniard had an endless source of inspiration, when it came to annoy him. “He holds up the bulb and waits for the world to turn around him!” Well, if it helped winning,...  
Ricky brought Mesut to the locker room as he had promised Sami the evning before. When they left the house, Caroline had forced the promise, to bring the boy home with him as soon as possible. The German had done his magic on Ricky’s family, too. Sami was pleased with the relaxed smile on his hoard’s face and joined the rest of the team on the pitch. Sergio was just about fixing his hairband, when he felt Mesut’s little, cold hand on his neck. “Sese, have I done something wrong? Are you mad at me?” The defender had to gulp hard to find his voice back. “No, I could never be mad at you cariño. It just... I was so ocupied with myself, I didn’ t notice...” “RAMOS MOVE OUTSIDE!” The Mister saved Sergio, as he was about saying something very stupid like “I’m sorry, I should have done this more than two years ago, but since the first time I met you, I wanted to be near you, I was just to blind and dense to notice, but now I’m gonna make it right. I love you, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, I want to have children with you...” Thank goodness, he had been interrupted.

It was late afternoon, when the team met once more. since the transformation they developed the tradition of sitting together in the afternoon, just hanging out. Most of them had lost someone close, so spending time with each other, prevented feeling alone.  
Ricky found Zizou’s newspaper on one of the tables and the boys had started filling it with complete nonsense: Another word for brat (8 letters) M-O-U-R-I-N-H-O “Hey Sami!” Marcelo screamed cross the room. “How’s your threesome. We’ve been wondering... How’s Mesut in bed?” For a second there was complete silence. Most of them starring to the floor. Ricky went on filling the puzzle: Another word for crazy (7 Letters) M-A-R-C-E-L-O. But Sami did not yell back or punched the Brazilian’s face, although he’d been thinking about breaking the defender’s nose with one careful strike. But instead he just sighed. The tall German knew, they were whispering behind his back and this was his chance, to put things right. “I don’t know. AND to be honest, I don’t want to. If you don’t believe me, use your brain only this time: I am a dragon. I hoarded Mesut years ago and all I want to do, is protecting him, make sure he is fine and comfortable. Now, have you looked at him lately?” Marcelo was still completely surprised not to be punished for his words, but to get an honest answer instead, he was speechless. “I’m sure, you all noticed, that he’s quite slender and you have to think, his body is still male, too. So there is very little space for... uhmmm, everything.” Some of the guys nodded slowly as the midfielder had their undivided attention. Fábio even stopped breathing. “Now, maybe you’ve noticed, I’ve grown a little since the transformation. So, let’s be honest, I would be to big for him and the last thing I want, is my treasure to be hurt. This would be opposition to my nature. AND, if I find, one of you torturing Mesut with such an impertinent talk, I might follow my instincts and toast you. Got it?” Marcelo gluped and hurried to nod. The German had been quite clear. Sergio’s face froze. He had not thought about the size problem

When Zizou had asked the German playmaker aside, he had no intention, how to start a conversation with him. But as the kid’s eyes grew wide in adoration, the Frenchman decided to do something, he carefully avoided to do with the first team. He tought the boy some tricks. Not that Zizou had not tried to practise with the team, but it always ended up both sides depressed. The players feeling like they were unable to handle the ball, because it looked so easy, the former world player feeling like he was a miserable teacher, because for him it felt easy. So It had been some time since his last attempt. But this time he had a pupil, who could comprehend. Mesut’s telekinesis ability and his fine technique gave him the possibility to keep up and the boy listened carefully to each word the older man said, always focussing the Frenchman with a gaze full of admiration. Zizou could not deny, that he enjoyed being with the kid, when the boy suddenly stopped in the middle of a very tricky move. “It’s O.K. to feel sad about it.” Zizou stared at the boy, the sentence caught him out of the blue his guard down. “What do you know about life...” He had tried to sound angry. This would have been his normal reaction, he was able to rage up in a second, but he felt like someone was pulling the rolled sod underneath his cleats.  
Two hours later, the Frenchman was able to think again. He had made his decision not to use the little revolver, he kept upstairs in his office. He had lost, yes, but he had a job to do. His soul had been purified and he would give his life for that boy, who had just done that by telling one short sentence only and waiting for him to cope with his anger and fear. The kid had lost his family, too... Maybe he could fill this gap... The playmaker seemed to be the only person with a similar way to handle a ball... Maybe he could fill the gap, death had caused by taking all of his four sons... And maybe, the German could be the daughter, Zizou had always secretly desired to have... “How did you know?” “I didn’t know. I just guessed, you’d be the same.” Mesut shrugged. “But I didn’t tell anyone about them” The Frenchman still couldn’t believe it. “Well, then you’re talking in your sleep. The whole club mumbles about you. I’m sorry, if I did something wrong. C-can you get off of me now, please?” Suddenly Zidane realised, he still pinned the boy to the ground, holding him like a big teddy bear in his arms. Slowly he released the kid, who was directly heading for the toilet.

Iker’s phone buzzed at about ten p.m. He was ready to go to bed, because of the game the next day, but the message he got made his blood run cold. “Iker? We have to inform you, that a friend of your’s had a terrible accident.” The goalkeepers mouth turned into a desert. “Who is it?” “David Beckham.”


	9. Crossword puzzle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A disaster, S-E-R-G-I-O and another word for danger (six letters)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoooo, I never worte such a scene. And I'm sure I left a lot of misspelling, but it's the middle of the night...

„Disater, seven letters?“ „C-L-Á-S-I-C-O!“ At least, neither Marcelo nor Pepe had lost their sense of humour, although the match was a complete debacle. It was not, that the players from Barcelona had been changed, but they seemed to get along with it much better. Puyol was so heavy, he was imune to every tackle, Iniesta had some coordination trouble with his four feet, but he never lost control of the ball, instead managed to shield it nearly perfectly between them and when it came to Messi... He really had goatfeet, which made it impossible for him to find fitting shoes, but he just played ‘barehooved’ as it was no change at all.  
Cristiano was so bugged out, by the unstopping bleat from the Argentine striker, he understood Pepe, who was so provocated by the sound, that he had to be subbed after 8 minutes. He might have killed someone... Friend or foe! But what shocked the Portuguese the most, was how helpless Ricky had to watch their opponent move around him, far too slow to act, only able to react, too late! They both knew, that the playmaker nearly did not change physically and with all the other guys stronger, faster,... well, some kind of pimped up, the Brazilian was left chanceless. And the coach had no alternative for the moment. It was no soothsaying to see, that they would be confronted with big problems in general, because... Karim had massive problems with the rain, he was so hydrophonic, since he turned into a cat. Álvaro retrieved two thow-ins, both to a Barça-player, and thank goodness they where too irritated about the young striker bringing back the ball to them, to make a goal out of it. When Mourinho subbed the Puppy after half an hour, the boy nearly cried.  
Nothing worked out, and to make the situation even worse, both Sergio and Iker seemed completely unfocussed. Sergio was still thinking about his size problem and Iker was too busy to conceal his worries after the phonecall he got the night before. David’s car had crashed into a tree and the Englishman was in a coma, his state still vague. Of course the goalkeeper hadn’t told anybody... It was enough, he was carrying that burdon, he didn’t want anyone else to be troubled with this.  
The score at half time was 0:6 and the atmosphere in the Bernabéu was awful. As Mourinho entered the locker room, everybody expected a reprimand, but instead, the Portuguese stepped aside and made some room for Zizou, who had been watching the catastrophy from the VIP box. He was accompanied by Mesut and the Frenshman nearly had to drag the Midfielder down to see the team and the coach. The German was shaking as the coach’s attention turned to him and he felt miserable with the thought, he had let the team down by being selfish, when he tried to jump off his balcony. Now he was still on medication and it would take some time untill he was alowed to play again. The playmaker felt guilty. “Mesut wants to tell you something.” Mourinho’s words pulled the boy out of his thoughts, he had not been prepared to speak... He never was and as he opende his mouth without making any sound his eyes became even wider as they usually were. He wanted to tell them how sorry he was for leaving them alone with this disaster, but could not find the words...  
Marcelo was the first to get up on his feet. He couldn’t bear looking at the midfielder like this. Mesut was about turning into a picture of misery and the Brazilian just did, what everyone else was thinking about. He hugged the boy, lifting his chin and promised to run faster, to tackle harder and to seize each chance he would get... Gonzalo was the next one to swear, he would do better, then Karim, who decided, that he would rather take a bath, than disappoint Mesut. The rest of the team followed, even Iker forgot his fears for the next 50 minutes. Cristiano left the room as last and Mourinho could see the understanding in the Mole’s eyes. This boy was a gift, the little magic he just did on the team, without even knowing, could be used in many different oppotunities. “Founder of a religion, five letters?” Mou grinned at his number 7 “M-E-S-U-T!”  
The match ended 5:8.

“How do you think we should punish them for the lousy first halftime?” Zizou looked up from the newspaper. “Don’t you think they are punished enough by the media?” The press had been merciless with the team. “Well, they are. But if I leave them be, they will always be afraid of what I’m up to do. They’re expecting something to come...” The coach was right. The team needed a punishment to stop feeling guilty. “What about letting them clean the clubhouse? The conference rooms could use some new paint, too.” The Frenshman suggested.

“We’re going out tonight, when we are finished with the shower and the toilets.” Karim sat down close to Mesut, one arm aroud the midfielder’s slender shoulders. “You know, the usual place, just some dancing.” The striker was right. The German had been hiding behind Sami for quite some time and he felt the tension between his best friend and Lena... Maybe they both needed a day off, without him to bother them. “Who’s coming?” “Just Álvaro, Gonzalo, you and me... Just like before!” Karim beamed at the playmaker, he had been missing the guy.

Iker took a close look at his renovation crew. He was a little calmer since the doctors asured him, that there was nothing to be done, but wating for the Englishman to wake up, which was expected to happen during the next two days. Now he had to organize a bunch of slobs, to work in the conference room. At least he would not have to clean the toilets, because this would be the offence’s job. He had to clear out the second storey, paint the walls, and then put the furniture back. That was it... He had enough remover to be fast with the first and the last step, had sent Sergio and Fábio to the building centre to buy whatever was be needed. The goalkeeper had planned carefully: The strong ones like Pepe, Marcelo and Sami had to carry out the chairs and tables and then Raphaël, Arbeloa and Raúl would paint the walls, while the rest took a break to be ready, to put everything back in. An easy, cunning plan...

Ricky was delighted, when he heard about the way they splitted the team. He took Mesut aside and let him organize the cleaning, and the boy was ambitious. “Àlvaro, Gonzalo and Karim, you start with the dusting the rest follows me to get the material we’ll need... Except Cristiano... Please be so kind and get us some coffee, you know, you make the best cappuccino in here.” The kid smiled at the Portuguese... And Ricky had to admit, it was the most charming way of getting the Mole out of this without telling him, he did not suite for the job. Of course, Cristiano was not afraid of dirtying his hands, but he was not good in it, if it didn’t involve at least a murder or some broken bones...

When the offence crew met Mourinho in the cafeteria, to tell him, they had finished the cleaning, it was about four p.m. Much to their surprise they found the coach sitting next to a crying Iker, patting the goalkeeper’s back gingerly. “What happend?” “Go upstairs, look at it yourself, what happens, if you make a tiny little mistake in your cunning plans.”  
As they entered the room they burst out into laughter... “So that’s what happens, if you send Sergio to buy paint?” Cristiano managed to get out during his fit of laughter. Ricky wiped his eyes. “Well, didn’t Florentino say, the club wanted to be more involved in women’s football? Founder of anarchism, six letters!” Karim had to sit down an this remark, as they all stared at the bright pink walls of the conference room.

This evening Lena was happy to dress up Mesut... The boy had spent more than an hour in front of his wardrobe, which was not typical for him. She took the chance, to decorate him for the night and she was satisfied with the result. Even Karim had to admit, that Mesut looked way to good next to him, when he came to fetch the midfielder. They met Gonzalo and Álvaro at their usual place, a hip club in the centre of Madrid, where they had planned to spend their night dancing and relaxing for the first time since Weargus Day. But as the night went on Mesut grew more and more shirty from the advances of the other visitors on the dancefloor and as he searched for his friends a rude drunkard felt up his butt pushing him hard against the bar. Mesut was about to scream, as a hand sliped into his jeans, but the music was too loud. Suddenly he felt the weight of the guy removed and as he turned around, he recognized the tall man, who had just saved him. “Not the right place to hang around, hmm?” “Zlatan, what are you doing in Madrid? Uhm, thank you, I was just about to leave, but this idiot...” “Want to go somewhere else? I could be your bodyguard for tonight.” The Swede winked and smiled at the German. They had never met before except on the pitch, but the offer sounded honest and funny. “I have to tell my friends first.” The huge guy nodded and streched a little. He had grown! Mesut had to admit, he was impressed by that feature.  
Madrid’s strikers were in a dark corner knotted into a kind of ball and Mesut wasn’t even sure whose arm he saw in front. He had no idea, they were THAT close, and he decided to text them, he left. He didn’t want to disturb whatever they were about to do.

Iker sat down next to David’s bed. The Englishman had woken up half an hour ago and finally he started speaking in full words or something similar, it would take a little longer till he was expecting sentences again. “Why did you come here?” The goalkeeper was trying again “Trip, get someth. Wheres Zlllll?” Cristiano watched the scene unnoticed. His memories flashed back to the day he first met the blond man. He had been nearly a child, but the witchmaster didn’t care, took him seriously as he took him... Now he had come to Madrid and Cristiano had to know why!

Zlatan smiled at the thing next to him. He had no idea, why it turned him on, thinking about torturing the German. He had never thought of that creature as pretty or even attractive. It had been easy doping these three idiots by drugging their drinks and it had been easier to get this, well, whatever it was, into his car. The Swede needed only one well targeted punch, to knock the kid out. He carried the midfielder into the flat he had prepared, placed him on the bed to have a closer look. The witchmaster was nearly mad about getting this creature into his sphere of control. There had to be something, a reason. He had not been that androgynous before... And a sudden awareness made him grin evily. If this was true, the thing on his bed was worth it’s weight in diamonds, but he had to be sure... Zlatan slowly stripped the kid, he knew, as a descandant of the old hell lords, he would be immune to the strange magic this boy/girl was able to cast on everybody it met and he realized, that it were his insticts telling him to have that creature begging for mercy. There was only one way to prove, he had found a Darkelve. There would be an extra orifice right under the thing’s cock... Zlatan leaned over the slender body, with his left hand fixing the slim wrists above the kid’s head and felt the tension as the German woke up. The Swede used his weight to hold Mesut down and grinned evily at the shocked expression on the midfielder’s face. Zlatan was a bit dissapointed not to hear a sound, when he slowly intruded his triggerfinger, and got at least a low hiss, when he added his middelfnger. A sudden noise, that was probably not made by a human being made him freeze. With a loud detonation the door was literally blown up and something burning grabbed the Swede’s feet, pulling him off of the horrified playmaker.

Álvaro and Raphaël had just finished their dinner, some chinese takeover, when the Spannish defender’s cellphone screamed. “Bwoah, Arbeloa, get another sound for text messages!” “Wait, that’s strage, Mesut texted me, he was leaving with Zlatan Ibrahimovich. He mistook my number with Morata’s, again...” “Wait! With whom?!” Raphaël had been working for Cristiano’s network since he came to Madrid, because he was the techie, the Mole had needed. The Frenchman was kind of proud to be part of this crew and he had used every opportunity to learn about the world, as only an insider could see it, he learned about creatures, Weargus Day and about politics. AND, if he had learned something, it was one simple thing: No one leaves his sphere without a reason! The Swede was part of another Network. He had strong contacts to Italy, him being here ment danger. Raphaël did the first thing, that came to his mind: he phoned Cristiano, but the Portuguese had his phone switched off and Iker, the second person he tried to reach, too. So he did, what the coach, Zizou and Florentino instilled into them. He activated the emergency phonelist.

Sergio was close to the place, Raphaël located Mesuts cellphone. He had been in that part of town, because he brought Fábio to the tatoo studio, he used to go. But they didn’t even reach the place, when the Frenshman called. Running up the stairs of the building, the Sevillano caught the smell of sweat, testosterone, sulfur and the fine scent of vanilla mixed with pure panic. The Moment he reached the door, the world around the defender turned red. He was in flames. Sergio exploded grabbing the Swede’s feet and pulling him off, but this enemy was not a lightweight and as they wrestled destroying most parts of the room, Sergio felt a sudden loss of balance.

Fábio had been to smart, to step into the Spaniard’s way. He had been watching careful enough to know, that this guy had a crush on the young German, his project of science. When the Portuguese entered the room, he found the hybrid naked, curled into a ball and shivering in panic. There was no trace of the two big guys... except the broken window.

Mesut didn’t understand what happened. He had just texted his friends, when the world around him turned dark. The next moment, he felt a severe pain between his legs, and he could not move his hands... or anything! He opend his eyes, finding himself buried under Zlatan’s heavy body and then, when he realized, what was about to happen, the whole world exploded around him. And a second later he looked up at his knight in shining armour, who had come to rescue him.

“Are you o.k.” Fábio covered the boy with his sweater. He would take care of Sergio, too, but first he had to get Mesut out of the dangerzone. It would help him with his plan for the playmaker and at least, he could gather some brownie points. The German was definitely a weakness of Cristiano’s. And when it came to judgement day, the Mole’s opinion was what really mattered in the end.


	10. Mark my words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cosy place, an angry Mole and a lot of talking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've created the system of creatures some time ago, so if something is too confusing, please feel free to ask... and I try to eyplain in the next chapters.

Mesut woke up to the sound of low voices. He turned a little, but kept his eyes closed. Everything was good for the moment. He was warm and comfortable, even his feet weren’t cold and he could feel his blanket wrapped around his body, the blue, fluffy one with the amber stars, Sami gave him for his 18th birthday. He realised he was being held by big, strong but gentle hands and the familiar smell of musk filled his nose. But then the memory of the night before came back into his mind and he wondered, why he didn’t feel afraid, angry or at least uncomfortable about it. He had been knocked out, stripped, humiliated and... No, no anger, not even sadness. He yawned against Sami’s shoulder and fought his way out of the grip, that held his head down, but made sure he didn’t move too much, so the Dragon wouldn’t stop caressing his back.  
“Look who’s awake...” It was Mourinho’s voice, that drove away the last relicts of doziness. He looked up and found himself surrounded by the coach, the boss and Zizou. “Kid, tell me, when you’re ready. I think, we have to talk. There are some things you need to understand.” What the...

Cristiano had called his inner crew for an emergency meeting. He had managed to get Pepe, Marcelo, Fábio, Ricky and Raphaël to his place in about ten minutes and finally the informations he got, started making sense: The sudden apearence of David in Madrid, the poisoning of three strikers in a club and the attack of Zlatan against Mesut... Cristiano was furious! An intervention in his territory, it was unbelievable. The Mole had spent a lot of time and effort to conquer the complete Iberian Peninsula. He had been meeting or killing the right people to make sure, the public had no clue, Spain was under Portuguese flag now and he had built a strong network in HIS country! No one should be able to do or even dare to do such an iniquity...  
”O.k. Raphaël, please tell everybody what you know.” Still, the Portuguese’s voice was alarmingly quiet. He had to be careful, if he didn’t want to scare the hell out of the young Frenshman. “I... I was spending the night with Arbie, and he got that text from Mesut. The guy really should stop sending Morata’s stuff to the first Álvaro in his contact list.” Cristiano nodded at this dispensable remark. He didn’t want to think about the consequences, if the German had been able to handle his cellphone only this time. “Go on.” “He wrote, he was leaving the club with Zlatan Ibrahimović. I thought, it was strange, this guy being here, so I tried to phone you, but...” “I know, I was unavailable.” “So, I tried the emergency phone-list, but Pepe wasn’t...” “I was with Cris at the hospital...” Pepe interrupted the Frenshman. “Next one on my list was Sergio and he was with...” “With me.” Fábio cut Raphaël off. “Right, I was able to locate Mesut’s phone and that’s all I know.” The last sentence sounded more like a desperate whine and Ricky was the one to release the young man. “You’ve done very good. You prevented something worse from happening. We are very grateful, you’re on our side.” The young defender did’t relaxe untill he found Cristiano nodding to the commendation. The Mole’s opinion was all that mattered in the end. “That weirdo and I had been kind of close to the location, Rapha told us.” Fábio never waited for being asked and this time he got though without being rebuked. “We found the place and all I had to do was following the Spaniard, he seems to have an astonishing sense of smell. When I entered the room, the monsters had already fallen out of the window and I had no idea, which one and how soon any of them might return, so I wraped Mes into my shirt and got him out of this.” “Right move.” The defender beamed at Cristiano’s insertion. “How was his state, when you found him?” “He was, well... undressed, curled and trembling. I think he had suffered a trauma and he didn’t say a word...” “Well, that doesn’t mean a thing.” It was the first thing Marcelo said since he arrived. The Brazilian war normally a chatty person, but he had been busy trying to read Cristiano’s mind. Now He had given up. “Will you tell us, what this is all about Cris?” Yes, he would, but there was one piece missing in this puzzle, one more question to be answered.

Sergio looked up at Iker. “Calm down, it’s just a sprained ankle. I’m sorry, I didn’t get that bastard... I... I would have...” “No, I’m happy, he escaped.” Sergio stared at the goalkeeper with disbelief. “But I told you what he did...” “I don’t want you to kill someone.” Iker would not discuss that point with his younger friend. He was sure, the Sevillano had the ability to muder. At least he was a trained fighter of martial arts, a solid guard, but always with the speed, coolness and dangerousness of an attacker. The goalkeeper was even certain, Sergio would have been an assassin, if he had not been too loud. In fact, his inability of moving silently was, what might have safed the always smiling guy from being formed into a coldblooded killer. Iker preferred a galumphing Sergio. If there had to be someone murdered, it should be left to Cristiano. Even If it meant, a marauding Demon was walking around in Madrid.

“I guess, I owe you an explanation, kid.” Mesut was sitting next to Mourinho on the couch. “You must have a lot of questions about the whole situation. Did Sami help you with the Book of Creatures?” “Uhmm, we tried, but I guess, I fell asleep after two or five sentences?” The Portuguese scratched his head. This would be harder, than he expected. “ But you know, what you are?” “Hmm, kind of, but I still don’t get it...” Mourinho was about to say something, but to his surprise, the playmaker went on. “I mean, first I thought, I might die, because the transformation of my organs was so painful, then I wished, I would have died, because it turned me into... this, then people start to behave strange, when I’m around. Cris, and even Zizou burst into tears out of nothing, Pepe and Marcelo stop making jokes about me, Sergio doesn’t speak to me any more and yesterday... “ His voice cracked. “I think, I understood, that I’m not evil...” The Portuguese’s jar droped “...but I still don’t see, why people make such a fuss about me. I... I don’t like it. All I want to do, is to play football, but I still don’t know, if I can keep up, now that I turned into... well I lost weight and I’m nearly 15 cm smaller now. I still don’t have perfect shoes for my size and I just don’t want to wear girls’ shoes!” The coach lifted an eyebrow. It was the longest monologue he ever had from the boy and he would not interrupt him. “I know, I was naive going with someone, I met only on the pitch, but how in the world should I have foreseen what he was up to. Yes, you are right, but I have only one question: Why me!?” This would take some time...

Sami was back in his appartment. Zizou had to promise, he’d bring Mesut back personally, guarding him with his life, untill the Dragon agreed to leave his hoard. He had to do some preparation at home. First of all, he needed the Windows to be barred, this would take some time, but he had to organize it now. And he would make sure no one could pass the corridor without being heard. He started to put up barriers, whoever tried to get to Mesut’s room, would produce enough noise to wake the dead. Lena was the first to test the installations accidentally, when she arrived.

David was not sure, why he was kept in the clubhouse, but Florentino had promised him a slow and painful death, if he tried to escape. Well, the Witchmaster didn’t want to give it a try. He still felt miserable after his crash, his head was aching and he looked like he just drove a car against a tree, which was exactly, what he had done. The pain was enough for him, why did he have to look like shit, too right now. He stared into the mirror... “Never mind, your gonna be as pretty as before.” The Englishman winced, Cristiano’s voice was cold as ice. “Hey honey, I didn’t here you coming. What can I do for you?” The Portuguese breathed slowly before he responded. “Well, if you want it that way? David, dear, love...please tell me, why did you bring a Demon from the inner circles of hell to my part of the world?” There was no trace of emotion, neither in the voice, nor in the flawless face of the younger man. But David could still see the boy he met in Lisbon. He had been irresistible, tanned and fresh... And now he had added another charming allure. He was dangerous.

“O.k. if you want us to act as normally as possible, let’s talk about the party next week.” Iker rolled his eyes, but Sergio was right. The costume-party was a longtime tradition at the club. It was a weird thing and it always meant trouble, because most of the crew ended up drunken, but it was a tradition. Of course, it was kept out of public, it wouldn’t be quite helpful, if there was any of this in the media, but it helped team building, made them feel like being part of a secret society and it was fun. “O.k. what do you want to know?” “What’s this year’s theme? Did they finally consider my suggestion?” “No! ‘Nude beach’ is not an option!” The Sevillano faked a pout. “So what’s it gonna be this year?” “It’s gonna feel like prom-night, you will need a date for it, cause the theme is famous lovers. And as always only teammembers allowed” “And who are you going with?” Iker sighed at the curiosity of his friend. “With you, of course. It spares me the trouble of finding a costume myself.” He could tell by Sergio’s grin, that the defender already had a weird idea.

“Did you understand me?” Mourinho had tried German, Turkish and Kurdish, but the boy in front of him seemed immune to words and now he was close to crying. “I feel like I’m stupid...” “No, you’re not. It’s a language problem. See, it’s part of you. You speak facial expression, body language and emotion fluently, but I’m the one, who’s unable to say something complex that way. And the only person, who could is too soporific to do, but... wait a second, I know... I’ll be back in a minute, Don’t move!”  
The coach rushed out of the door. When he reached the room with the Witchmaster, he was surprised to find Cristiano there. “I’m sorry to disturb your conversation,” the tension between the guys was nearly visible. “I have to borrow David for a moment.” And without waiting for any reaction, the older man grabed the Englishman’s arm and pulled him away, out of the dangerzone.  
”Here, can you tell this boy, what he is and what he’s able to do?” David stared at the kid right in front of him, the reason he came to Madrid presented only a step away. He needed this creature to... to... His sight started to become bleary and his face felt wet, while he couldn’t help falling on his knees. Cristiano just arrived in the doorframe as the spectacle started.  
”I’m sorry, I risked so much, I never ment to harm you. But I need you... Without you, I will never be able to get the power to fight them, I will never be free, I...” Mesut looked from David to his coach. “Mister, if this was your plan, it really was a cunning one. I don’t understand a word he’s sobbing.” The kid slipped down the sofa and hugged the crying Englishman. “It’s O.K., whatever it is, let it go. Don’t be afraid.” He gently rocked the helpless guy in his slender arms. Cristiano took a seat, he understood David’s cofession. And this would take some time...

Fábio was ready for his next move. He was well aware, Mesut was still in the clubhouse and Sami was not! He would ask the hybrid to team up for the party next week. An hour ago Pepe and Marcelo, who were organizing this year had pronounced the theme and that everybody needed a partner. It was a little like asking for a date and the defender knew, he had to be faster than the Dragon. He would stick close to the hybid, feed him with some drinks and the rest would be a piece of cake. It was all a matter of timing, now that the playmaker was so grateful for being rescued. He would not say no to the Portuguese!

Ricky opened the door of the office. He had hurried to the place since Cristiano’s phone call. “Hey, uhm, what’s this about?” The Brazilian gestured to the pile of sobs and sorries on the floor. “That’s our demonstration model. Can you please tell Mesut what he is, and what he can do. Oh, and don’t leave out what he can’t.” Cristiano immediatly regretted his sarcasm as Ricky shook his head and looked at him with his sad dark eyes. “Well, then...” The Brazilian sat down next to the German and wrapped his arms arond him. “You are unique. The word Darkelve has nothing to do with the guys from that movie you fell asleep while watching. You don’t even have pointed ears. It’s a translationerror. Another word for you is Underworldangel. But you have nothing in common with an Angel like Iker. Still there?” The younger man nodded and Mourinho made a note to keep the Brazilian in the club, with every effort necessary. “You are male. And you are female. You’re soul is so pure, that it cannot be spoiled. That’s the reason why everybody kind of loves you. Your doing magic all the time. But you’re not casting spells. You just drip it. You’re helping people to become better. You can even give a soul to a creature, that normally doesn’t have one. Still there?” Again, the boy nodded. “If you’d asked for it, you’d have an army to conquer the world in less than five minutes. so you have to be careful. Your magic works on everybody, except the offspring of the inner hell circle. They feel provocated by you, because their instinct tells them to spoil souls. But remember, your soul can’t be spoiled. That’s why they get so angry, when they meet you. Still there?” Ricky waited for the reaction and went on. “You are precious. With your help, we can safe a lot of people. And your family will never understand, because they are from said other side. You will never be a guard, an attacker or an assassin. It doesn’t matter how hard you practise. But you don’t have to. You can easily find someone to do the fighting for you. With you on our side, we can finnish something, that has been started when the world was young. We need you. And what I want to tell you personally: I really love you, nenê. I don’t want you being hurt or sad or anything but happy. That’s why we have to take care of you. You cannot walk around in public without someone to protect you any more. Get it?” “Got it!” “Good.” “Can I go home now? I’m hungry...”  
”You have to use short sentences and easy words. And you have to stop wondering, why he’s not angry or afraid or whatever. He simply can’t. He’s all forgiveness and believing mankind’s good. That’s the species” Ricky left the office leading David back to his room, where a nurse could take care of him. The Englishman needed to rest. His confession had overexerted the still injured man.

“Hey Ozzy?” Karim waited for the German right in front of the office. “I... I’m sorry. We didn’t... We were drugged and...” “Please Karim, I’m not angry with you guys. I know, he put something into your drinks.” The cat respired. “What I wanted to ask... Well, have you heard about the theme for the party next week?” “No, not yet. I don’t like this tradition. You know, people get drunk and scream around, and everybody is dressed like an idiot... Why do they wait to pronounce it till there’s no time left to prepare? They have not chosen Sese’s suggestion?” “No, but you need to team up this year. It’s gonna be famous lovers. And they give us so little time to make us more creative Want to be my date?.” “Mesut laughed out. “This is completely weird! Wait a second, aren’t you going to go with Álvaro or Gonzalo? You guys seemed to be kind of close since...” “Pipita’s already asked José and as always Álvaro will be with Ángel... Merde!” “Yes, I guess it’s only natural, we forget about the worst things. Never mind, I think we can make a threesome...” Arm in arm, whispering they arrived in the lounge, where Zizou was waiting for the playmaker. “Oh Ozzy, I love that idea. I’m gonna tell Álvaro and Pepe. Hi Fábio...” The Frenshman rushed away and the Portuguese knew in an instant, he was too late.


	11. Hell hath no fury...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A late night conversation, an honest Mole and three ancient goddesses of revenge (five letters)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm back... And I did it! Feel free to comment;-)

„Lena, wake up… Please, Lenaaaa, I need you.” Slowly the blond girl lifted her head. “Hmmmpf?” “Shhh, I don’t want to wake Sami...” The first thing she saw were these big, black doe eyes and she knew, if Mesut was ready to talk about something in the middle of the night, it had to be serious for him. Carefully they made their way through the barriers Sami built up in the corridor and ended up in the bath room sitting on the carpet with their backs against the bathtub. “How did we get here without crashing any of Sami’s weird traps? How did you get to me without making any noise...?” “There was a gap...But that’s not important now. I need your help.” Since the incident Sami had been kind of overprotective, but the more the tall guy tried to hide his hoard from the world, the more Mesut fought to get away from him. He had refused sleeping in their bed since then, streched with Ricky, Karim or Cristiano during training and took his meals in his room alone. Lena knew he was suffering under Samis paranoia as well as she did. “You look pale? Are you ill?” “I... I’m bleeding!” “WHAT?!?” “Shhhhh, don’t wake him! It’s not what you think. It’s... it’s hormonal... I am on the rag!” Lena bit her tongue to prevent herself from laughing out loud. “I thought, it was be something bad...” “Please, it is bad!” “O.k. you’ve been warned, I mean, you knew, it would happen?” The boy nodded. “Good, you can use my stuff, I have all you need. You can have a sanitary towel and, if you like, a tampon... Hey don’t faint, Schatzi!” The darkhaired midfielder had closed his eyes for a moment. “It’s not the end of the world.” With a gentle pull she made him lean against her shoulder. “Tomorrow you go to the medics and they will help you getting it under control. You can take the Pill for example to make sure you don’t start bleeding during a match...” “Oh shit, why do we have to wear white pants!” “And it makes sure, nothing will go wrong, if you might be having... Well, you haven’t been with someone for quite some time.” Mesut’s shoulders slumped. “I miss Marko. I know, we didn’t meet that often, but I knew, he was there...” “I understand that, so why don’t you call him?” “I did, we skyped... He’s no longer interested in me. See, he kind of liked me better, the more I got a six-pack. He can’t do anything with girls.” But you don’t sound as sad as I’d expected you to do... Is there someone else?” Their eyes met and the playmaker blushed immediatly. “I knew it! WHO is it?” “Shhhh, I don’t want to be put back to bed... O.k., maybe there is someone. Let’s say, if I was interested in a colleague, someone who was there, when I needed him most...” “Oooh, that’s cute! Is he interested in you, too?” “Well, he flirts. And he takes care of me, but I don’t know, if he likes me that way.” “Go and flirt back. Find out. If you don’t get laid soon, you might become sick or something.” They giggled and talked on untill Sami found them in the morning.

Pepe looked up from his clipboard. “You are planning to come as what!?!” He stared at Sergio. “This is going to be the weirdest evening ever. We will not survive that night. How did you get Iker into this?” “It was easy, he was to lazy, to come up with something himself. What ‘couples’ are comming?” The Portuguese hurried to hide the list from the Sevillano. “You’ll see, when the party starts. At least you will be decently dressed this time. What was this?” for a split second the lights went off. “Hmmm, maybe Florentino forgot to pay the electricity bill.”

“Hey Cris.” Ricky looked around to be sure they were alone. “Are you o.k.? You look like you haven’t slept all night.” The Mole turned his head and when he had convinced himself too, no one would disturb them, he droped his mask completely, pulling close to the Brazilian, and for the first time since the transformation he gave a shit about his trembling hands. “Oh, Cris? I see, you’re ready now to accept some help.” Ricky knew, his younger friend was close to the limit. Cristiano was not made for politics, but since Weargus Day he had been drawn into a game, he was not ready to play. Ricky had been studying Moles since he met that Portuguese for the first time. He was lucky to have an old South American edition of the ‘Book of Creatures’, the Greak version and the Latin translation of this standard work where abridged. Moles where former inhabitants of the underworld. They were infamous for their burning ambition, their way of manipulating others and their distinct misanthropy. Armed with the talent of awing someone combined with a lack of a soul or a conscience, Moles had managed to take big influence in the history of mankind. But as a part of this system, the young ones were kept carefully out of sight, in the custody of a teacher chosen by their ‘makers’, untill they were ready for the game. Normally this process took about 300 years. But Cristiano had been pushed and pulled, after the sudden -probably violently- death of both of his real parents. And their choice of tutors turned out to be a capital mistake. The Portuguese wasn’t even 50 years old, when he was presented in public, ready to earn money. When Ricky found out about it, he decided, to take care of the guy and he was rewarded with these rare moments, when ‘la Máquina’ showed he was just a normal, absolutely overstrained boy, clutching at each straw. Ricky loved that kid, who had to look so much older, than he really was... as measured by Moles. He had to detract him from his agony, before the rest of the team arrived. “I figured out our costumes for the party.” Cristiano streched his arms and showed his wide shark-teeth grin, he was back playing his role. “So, we are going there together?” Both players laughed, but a distant rumble made them pause.

Fábio was huffy. Karim’s intervention wouldn’t stop him from fuddling Mesut at the party, but he would need someone else as a partner. He would have preferred Cris anyway, but as always, there was Ricky. It was a pity, the club didn’t sell the Brazilian at the end of last season. Quick-witted the defender used the next opportunity to ask Rapha for a ‘date’. It would be easy to get rid of the kid during the party, the Frenshman was usually drunk after one glass of wine. And maybe there was a chance to get back at Karim for... for being faster than him and for Cris ignoring him and for everybody not treating him the way he deserved it... Fábio had a bone to pick with the world. He didn’t notice the strange, charged atmosphere, that surounded ‘Ciudad Real Madrid’, when Mesut entered the locker room. “Hallo?!” Fábio grinned, one day he would record this and use the German’s half questioning tone as ringtone for text messages. “What’s it, Mess? Are you comming to practise today?” “Yes, I... can we strech together?” The boy blushed and Fábio felt content for the first time that day. “I’ll be there in a minute, O.k.?” The Portuguese nodded and left for the pitch, as the playmaker turned to the other side of the room.  
“Sese?” The tall Spaniard cringed. He had been avoiding the German since Sami talked about the size and he had been suffering from fantasising how he might injure his walking image of deity, if he ever lost control. But he would never let him know... “What is it cariño?” He wondered, why Mesut never cared about the hundred pet names his teammates used for him. “You’re acting strange... Well different strange, than you normally do. Aren’t we friends anymore?” “Oh bebé, no, I mean, yes...” The playmaker tilted his head and frowned. He was used to talking like this himself, but the silver-tongued defender was not well known for stammering. “Will you tell me, what’s wrong?” “The moment I can put it into words, I will, promised. What costume are you going to wear for the party?” “Nice try! You know, it’s a secret Sese...” The Sevillano made sure the midfielder trusted the faked grin. Both missed the buzzig sound, that was in the air that day.

“Thank you for coming so soo.” Florentino leaned a little foreward in his chair and focussed the Brazilian in front of him. “I want to talk to you about the present and the future.” “Don’t beat about the bush. We can be honest. I know, I don’t have much of a future playing here.” The boss gulped. He knew Ricky was an intelligent, contemplative guy, but he had never been that forthright before. “I know, I couldn’t keep up during el clásico and we all know, I won’t get better. And as soon as Mesut’s back on the pitch, I’m not going to play at all.” “Ricky, please let the man talk.” Mourinho joined the conversation. “I wanted to tell you, that we’re not going to sell anybody untill we know, what you’re guys able to. And if it comes to you, we all know your skills...” “But all other players have won with their transformation...” “But non of them can guide this crew like you do.” The playmaker stared at his boss. “Look, your way of teaching the kids is amazing. You even got Mesut to understand, he needs to be guarded, without him falling asleep. AND you are the only person, Cristiano listens to. We need you in our team. Ricky, what I was about to tell you is, we doubled your transfer fee. You will still get your chances on the pitch, but... Let’s BE honest: This is much bigger. Without you, it’s a matter of time till Cristiano breaks down. We secured Spain only three weeks ago, if anyone outside finds out about, how young and helpless our Mole is, we’ll be doomed. There will be a tug of war with the witches and the Hell Lords.” Ricky tried to calm himself. If any of this was made public, the young Portuguese would be murdered in no time. It was the fear of him, that kept the challengers away. “Who else knows about him?” “Just the three of us, since he used Weargus Day, to get rid of his tutors.” Ricky smiled at his sudden awareness and jumped on his feet. “You’re right, he needs my help. If he... dispached his, uhmm, family, he’s all alone with the baby. And he told me, the boy never sleeps through the night. This exlains, why he is so beat.” As the playmaker left the office, the older men looked at each other “Well, I guess, it was a YES...” But they were interrupted by a rumbling in the radiator.

Sami was in a crummy mood. Mesut avoided him and Lena was angry, because of the changes he built in their apartment. It had been raining all day and she didn’t confess it was her work. Now his hoard had told him he would go to that stupid costume party with Karim and Álvaro, these two idiots who had let him down only a week ago and... “Hey, you need someone to talk?” Sami hadn’t noticed Xabi getting close. “You’ve been mumbling around all morning. Trouble with your fiancée?” “Am I that bad at hiding?” The Spaniard just pointed at the rainy sky. “They don’t get it! They both don’t understand, that the world outside is dangerous for him and all I want to do, is to protect him and...” “We’re takling about Mesut now?” “Yes, he conspires with Lena and now she’s angry at me and calls me overprotective. Just because I brought Mesut to the medics this morning.” The older man frowned, but stayed silent. “I smelled blood and I wanted to be sure it’s nothing serious...” “And?” “Ach, he’s fine... He refused going to the party with me. I had such a good idea for a costume, but he preferres something weird...” “Well, if it’s not too ridiculous, I still need a partner?” Sami looked at the quiet midfielder. “Yes, we can find something dignified as a costume.” Well, they were satified with their plan, but it had nothing to do with dignity.

Later the players met as they were used by now in the lounge. Marcelo had pinched Sami’s newspaper and now he tried to fill the crossword puzzle with Pepe. “Rachegöttin, five letters?” “Wait, I have to google... raaackegodtean? Aah, goddess of revenge... Five letters? F-Á-B-I-O!” It was late afternoon and the team had been arguing more than normal that day, when Ricky blew into an old referee whistle in the lounge. “May I have your attention, please. The boss had asked me to give some lessons about the Book of Creatures...” Mesut immediatly yawned. “...and Mesut is gonna help me with this.” “What!” “Yep, you’re gonna handle the presentation. Everytime I say ‘Click’, you’ll say ‘Clack’ and switch to the next folio. Don’t be afraid, I’ll try to make it as interesting as possible.” The players shared lookes, but what could they do, if the boss commanded them to listen? Fábio sat down next to the German playmaker. It was a fine occasion to lay a hand on the hybrid’s back. “Click!” “Clack!” A stupid picture of Iker apeared on the wall. “Let’s start with our number one. This is Iker.” Sergio nearly fell off his chair laughing. “Iker is an Angel, you can tell by his wings. Click!” “Clack!” The next foto showed a closeup of the goalkeeper’s spreaded wings. “Let’s forget, what we learned about Angels before, cause they were the ones, who wrote a lot of stories about themselves during the past millenia. First of all, they are not the link between God and the humans. Lets remember, makind or human are umbrella terms for all creatures. Click!” “Clack!” “Here you can see, how Iker tries secretly to fly and tumbles a little.” The goalkeeper was ready to protest, but Ricky cut him off. “You see, he’s nearly the guy he was before, he just grew wings. And now, lets go to the facts from the book...”  
A sudden noise drowned out the playmaker’s voice. The door explodet in a thunder and it started raining indoors. Pepe screamed against the noise “Sami, if you don’t handle your girl...” With a thunder someone entered the lounge leaving the complete team stunned. In the middle of the room surrounded by flashes of lightning was a blond man looking furiously around with burning eyes and stopped at Sergio. “YOU...” The Sevillano gulped. His mouth felt like a desert as he stared into these fiery orbs. “YOU SHOULD START PRAYING RIGHT NOW!” What followed was a line of curses and a sudden silence, that was even worse than the high-pitched screaming. “Nando? What are you doing here?” It was the first thing, that came to Ikers mind and it was no good idea to talk to the striker, who was about to turn into a supernova. “He dumped me by text message, but I’m not gonna be left like this, not after the tranformation, not now, he turned into something entertaining.” Nando’s voice became low and was only a whisper during the last part of his sentence. Sergio gulped again. “And where’s that bitch, you’ve been after since the worldcup? I swear, I’m gonna kill both of you. And I’m gonna make you suffer...” “Now, that’s interesting. Sergio has a crush on me?” Marcelo couldn’t resist. He was not afraid of that featherweight, as long as Cristiano was with him, but the Mole looked concerned and had placed himself right between the raging Spaniard and Ricky. Pepe corrected the last entry of their puzzle. Goddess of revenge: N-A-N-D-O! “Were is this little slut.” He turned around and found Mesut behind the laptop. The German’s eyes grew even wider. “So, you shank are trying to steal my lover?” Sami was on his feet, ready to step between this loony and his hoard, but he was at the other side of the room, and it was crowded, cause they all had been ordered to the lounge... “Wait a second.” Finally Sergio found his words again. “We had sex, o.k. and it was nice. BUT we never were lovers. I never said it you and if I had known, it was more to you than sex, I would have never laid you...” His statement was like a bomb. Nando crashed three tables with one strike and screamed that piercing, most of the guys blocked their ears knee-jerk. “You dare! Shut up, I’m gonna deal with you later. And he focussed the young German again. “Don’t look at me like you are all innocent and sweet, I know better! You twisted him around your finger since you met in South Africa, he even started learning German, before you decided to come to Spain, to be closer. He doesn’t talk of someone else, I bet he fantasises about you, when he fuckes someone else. And you planned all this. You...” “Sese...?” “Listen to that! Only your niece calls you this way, what kind of a puerile hit up is that...” “Wait, my mother calls me that, too. You don’t want to call her immature...” “Sese? Is that true?” What followed was a moment of complete and violent silence. Nando grinned evily at the shivering German. He had done a good job, damaging Sergio’s chances with that nasty bitch. “Sese?” Sergio knew, he had to answer now. “I... I’m sorry, but Nando’s right.” His confession was followed by a general gasping for breath. Sami was in motion. “I... I guess, I fell in love with you, while we were waiting to go out on the pitch, but I was to stupid to unterstand. When I heard, that one of you guys tranferred to Madrid, I was so excited without knowing why, and I had no idea, why I was disappointed, when Sami arrived. You are the kindest person I ever met and the way you move makes my world stop turning. And since the transformation you... you are perfect. I mean, you are everything, one could desire.” The tall Spaniard started crying during his last words. “I know, you’re not going to get closer than a mile and never without Sami in between us...” Mesut stepped foreward and did the only thing that felt right to him at this moment. He closed the gap between them and kissed the Sevillano.  
Nando’s face fell. He had expected the Darkelve to run off, but he turned to him and started. “I’m sorry for you. I can understand, you’re very sad and angry, but I forgive your rude words. Please, let asure you, I had no idea about this. And Sergio had no idea, that all it would have taken was a word. Thank you for revealing his true feelings to me. I would have never dared to ask...” The playmaker blushed. “If you need any help, let me know, I would love to... Oh, good heavens!” Nando had grown pale during the speak and fainted at the last sentences. He was very far from being the powerfull storm of fury right now. But non of the team was able to care for the Spanish striker, they needed every man to drag the angry Dragon off of Sergio...  
Ricky nudged Cristiano. “Will you go and help your teammates, please?!” The Portuguese gave a shit-eating grin and moved. He would need only one well targeted punch to knock Sami lights out. Ricky grabbed the newspaper from the table next to him and changed an entry, thinking that the only weapon against revenge was forgiveness and that the German had punished Nando without knowing the hardest way possible: Rachegöttin, five letters: M-E-S-U-T!


	12. The Mole, the Witch and the wardrobe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, as I wrote: The Mole, the Witch and the wardrobe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sister came up with this crazy idea of the closet some weeks ago... But it took me a lot of thinking, how they got in there! Sorry for the bad spelling, I'm too tired to edit again!

„Thank you for comming that fast. We are having this conversations with all our players after the first tryout.” Florentino looked at Sergio and his brother. “First of all, I would like to set things right: we are not going to sell or resign any of you guys, since we know exactly, what you are able to do. BUT let’s be honest. This is business... We have to think economically, so no one is safe.” The Andalusians shared a look. And Mourinho used the silence to enter the conversation. “At the moment I can asure you, you are on the right track. Your body has developed to the best advantage... Stop grinning Ramos, I did not mean your length!” René shook his head. “Please, go on and just ignore him. That’s what I’m used to do.” “You haven’t been burning stuff for weeks, if you can control this now, I don’t see any reason to get rid of you, although you are a terrible pain in the neck.” Florentino stared at the Portuguese next to him. This man was a genious as a coach, but too impertinent in negotiations. Well, at least in case of this Taurus he hit the bull’s-eye.

Cristano bolted upright and stared from his alarm clock to the babyphone. He had slept till seven! For the first time, since, since... He didn’t even remember, but a sudden panic caught him in the middle of this thought. The baby! In his mind he was alredy seeing his son lying dead in the crib, a cold corpse and... He nearly fell through the door, as he found the cutest scene he could imagine. “Hallo?! Hey, you’re awake now... Look Sweety, your daddy’s here...” The German was sitting in the rocking chair, his knees pulled close to his chest, supporting the toddler’s back with his thights. They both looked so intimate and easy and Cristiano was so touched, he couldn’t move or speak. “Ooooh, your daddy’s still a little dozy.” Mesut went on cooing, snuggling and nuzzling, while the baby reached out for him, touched the middfielder’s cheek with his clumsy little hands and hummed blissfully all the time. “How long have you been sitting with him?” “I don’t know, I heard him, when I was at the rest room and he seemed to enjoy my company... Have I done something wrong?” “No, no! I just haven’t seen him so relaxed for weeks.” The German frowned. “He’s a baby. What reason could he have to be stressed but your own?” Mesut was right. Cristiano felt like a complete idiot, but it was hard for him to take care of the child. Of course, he loved his son, more than his life, but Moles never took care of their breed themselves and Cristiano was already at his limit with the politics, he was forced to do... He needed to solve that problem soon, but he was afraid of doing the same misstakes his ‘makers’ did. He was unable to decide on the perfect tutors for his son’s first years... Oh, perfection! It was an essential philosophy of the Moles, that perfection was unreachable... It was nothing but a guiding star. Cristiano sighed. “Sure Baby-Cris needs a clean nappy. Let me...” “Oh, I’ve done this only minutes ago.”

“You have been talking to the Boss, Romeo?” Sergio looked up from his cup of coffee at Pepe and Marcelo. “Jep, nothing but routine. You guys, too?” “Well Marcelo has, I’m still waiting for my turn. AND?” Sergio grinned. He knew what they wanted to hear. “Oh, the Boss was very kind, but the Mister was a bit too honest...” “Oh, not that!” Marcelo cut him off. “What are you going to do about Mesut?” The Sevillano’s grin grew wider. He could play that game, too. “Well, I think I’m gonna read every wish from his eyes, except when we’re playing internationals.” Pepe rolled his eyes. “Come on! What are you going to do about Sami?” Sergio’s body still showed the bruises caused by the Dragon. “Guess, we’re going to talk it over and he will have to get used to the situation. Face it, it’s better for all of us. He was so busy being overprotective, his girl ruined the weather for the whole week. Now, as long as cariño stays with someone else, he can fix his relationship with Lena... Sunshine for all of us and rose-coloured glasses for me!” “You’re not afraid someone might steal your new lover, when he’s sleeping over?” “No, Mesut is the loyal kind of girlfriend...” Pepe and Marcelo started arguing, but the Sevillano wasn’t listening any longer. He thought about his love, who had arrived this morning accompanied by the most callous, confident and egocentric bastard the team had... Maybe there was something to be worried about.

David was bored. He felt a whole lot better, but still he was not allowed to leave the building, to use his phone or any computer. Florentino made it clear: He didn’t trust the Englishman, so untill they were sure, he wasn’t going to cause more damage, he was a prisoner at the clubhouse. At least this place was luxuriously furnished.  
David had seen the fury, that arrived yesterday and found the guy in a terrible condition. Whatever finished the Spaniard, must have been quite powerful. There were a lot of mysteries to be unraveled, a possibility to spend some time. As he passed a corridor, he picked up a conversation of two young strikers. “...Hihi, it’s all furry and I will look like the original. Ozzy said, he will help us fixing the ears...” David smiled. So it was time for the costume party again. He remembered the infamous tradition very well, when they celebrated with the theme ‘A night at the ballet and everybody appeared in pink tutus... even Zizou, although the Frenshman missed to shave his ugly legs. And David remembered the conspirative poll for the themes... He wondered, if there was still someone suggesting ‘nude beach’ each year. Well, if this was el día de la fiesta, he could move a little more freely, for the management, stayed out of sight, to pretend their ignorance of this boozy session and the players would be too drunk, to notice him. He didn’t plan to escape, he had nothing to go to in France, but he wanted to know more about the current team. Maybe they were able to move the world the way he needed. This Mole would be able to conquer Europe, with a little help. If he could convince Cristiano, he was useful, maybe he could free him from his shackles.

“Hey, you look great today, had an refreshing sleep?” Ricky was sure, his plan had worked, the moment Cristiano entered the exercise room. He had been the one, encouraging the Mole to take Mesut home with him. The boy had already worked a wonder, when he gave a soul to the Portuguese and his son, but the older men knew, there were many possible ways, the German could do his magic. “Where’s Baby-Cris?” “Mesut is bringing him to the nursery. He has his own way, handling him... Did you bring the costumes?” “Of course, they’re upstairs in the guest room, I prepared for us for tonight. Carolone’s going to pick up your son, too later. You see, we’re prepared.” “And we’re going to look silly!” Both started laughing, when Sami joined them. “Morning! Cris, just one word?” Ricky left, for one more cup of coffee. “What is it? I asure you, your hoard is fine. He’s with my son at the moment, but he will be here in a minute, so you can have a look yourself...” “Cris, I’m sorry. I..., I behaved like an idiot yesterday and I want to tell you, how grateful I am, you stopped me from killing this Sevillan douche bag and you took care of Mesut. I know, he safe at your place. No one would dare to intrude into your private place.” “And no one would survive!” The Mole showed his shark teeth-smirk. “Sami, I would build an altar for this creature, if I didn’t know, he’d hated the attention. He can stay with me as long as he wishes and you can relax. Take your time, fix your problems with Lena, she’s good for you. And don’t be afraid. I wont let Sergio enter my apartment. Salvation is a serious thing and I cannot let anybody spoil my son’s chances. You see, I have all reasons to protect your darling. At least I don’t trust this Romeo. I would put it past him, it’s only about sex...” The dragon snarled, but then started smiling back at the Mole.

Pepe couldn’t stop laughing. “You look like... I cannot find a word for that.” “Pah! The laugh is always on the loser. You would look stupid, if you lost Ro sham bo!” They had played for the costumes and now Pepe was dressed as Caesar and Marcelo as Cleopatra. The Brazilan had taken his task of looking like the famous Egyptian Queen very serious and had straightened his curly hair completely. He looked indeed like an idiot. Carefully Marcelo climbed onto a table, supporting himself on his buddy’s bold head. “Welcome, couples. I have to do the introduction speech now, because I won’t be able to balance on my impossible high heels, when the evening gets late... Thank you, for being so creative this year and thankful for bringing enough beer and wine for a whole week. Let’s have fun and don’t tell anyone!” He was regarded with cheers and applause as he nearly fell off the table. Iker looked around and found Ricky in a plaid costume including a weird plaid cap and pipe. “Let me guess, Dr. Watson is getting you something to drink?” “Well combined. But why are you all yellow?” The Spaniard sighed as Sergio joined them, his skin orange, wearing a red nose and a pullover with red and blue horizontal stripes. The Sevillano’s hair was darkend and stood on end. Iker looked similar. His hair was styled the same way, but he wore a yellow, orange and brown pullover with vertical stripes and his eyebrows were painted as a thick, black continuous line. In the middle of his yellow face he had placed an oval, orange nose. “Well, we’re the first gay couple in children’s TV!” Sergio burst out. “I didn’t expect to meet Ernie and Bert tonight. How did you guys end up like that?” “Well, Sergio’s other suggestions were...” “Iker refused to dress up as Tarzan and Jane or Adam and Eve!” “Didn’t you want to say ‘dress down’?” Cristiano joined their conversation shaking his head at the weird defender. “What else do we have?” Ricky turned to the Portuguese. “I’ve seen Fábio and Rapha as John and Yoko, right before Sami and Xabi forced me into a lecture about a famous friendship between a Native American and a Cowboy, which is still celebrated each year at a place called Bad Segeberg... Sounded boring, but can someone tell me, what our offensive line has prepared?” “Ricky grinned. “Gonzalo and José are Elvis and Priczilla, but I haven’t seen Mesut, Karim and Álvaro, yet. No, I just found them! They are at the buffet. Oh my goodness, we’re all going to suffer a shugar rush!” Karim was wearing a grey fluffy overall, with a white tummy a pink nose and long grey bunny ears, Álvaro next to him was dressed in black fur, except a white stripe, that started with his white sprayed hair, went vertically over his back and ended at the top of his own tail. Mesut was all in brown, with white dots on his back. “Who let Bambi, Thumper and Flower go to a drinking bout?” Cristiano shook his head again, he was not here to booze. He never did, but everything was different since Weargus Day.

David could hear the cheers and laughter from the boys. Seemed like nothing had changed. He had been entertaining himself by walking through the guest rooms and guessing, who had occupied it. He was surprised about how much stuff these guys brought for just one overnight stay. He was examining a very expensive looking shirt, when someone started tampering with the door. The Witchmaster didn’t hesitate to hide in the completely equiped wardrobe.  
“You haven’t been laid for too long Cris... And you are drunk, you’ll be sorry tomorrow...” Fábio let himself being pushed into the room as the taller man sealed his lips with a passionate kiss. The Mole was ready to get what he needed and the defender gave in easily. He had been wanting this for a long time and now that his leader finally accepted him, the younger man completely forgot about the tipsy German playmaker, he had sweet talked all night after Sami fell asleep and Sergio was into an arm wrestling bet against Pepe. In fact, most of the players were asleep by now. After a slight push Fábio found himself on the bed and he hurried to help his ‘playmate’ to take of the shirt and to open his belt. A sudden scratch on the door made them freeze. They were drunk, but not insane! Getting caught was the last thing to be desired. Without thinking Fábio got up and pushed Cristiano hasty into the big wardrobe.  
“Hallo?! Fábio can you help me? I don’t feel quite good...” “Oh meu armor, are you dizzy?” The Portuguese had to support the staggering playmaker, and both landed on the bed. “Sese is not interested in me and Sami snores...” Fábio closed his armes around the slender body, that was pressed against him. This was his last chance of finding out about the hybrid. He started stripping the kid.  
Cristiano was somewhere in between shocked, angry and turned on. The scene he could see through the gab between the ajared doors was hot, instinctively he reached out for the next thing and bit on it to prevent himself from groaning.  
David was close to loosing his mind, first he became witness to the smooching and undressing Portugueses and was aroused. Then Cristiano entered the wardrobe and the Englishman’s heart nearly stopped. But when noticed he had not been caught, he concentrated on the porn scene outside the little box and he found that diva, Cristiano used for entertainment, making out with the little Darkelve. The darkhaired kid reminded him a little of a healthier, better shaped version of Victoria, without the phoney affectation. And as ‘someone’ grabbed his right hand to bite and suck on his fingers, David hardend so fast, his brain literally stopped working. He reached out and let his left hand slip into the Portuguese’s pant. He earned a choked sigh and felt strong abs tense as he started to move slowly. Cris has changed a lot, since the last time I shagged him, was the last thing that went through his mind, before the door was slammed open and a fiery bull rushed roaring into the room. “What kind of a peep-show are you staging!!!” Neither David nor Cristiano had the time to put themselves into a proper state, as they were pulled out of the wardrobe and lifteted simultaniously by their necks... The Witchmaster casted every spell, that came into his mind, while the fist around his throat stayed tight, and the Mole punched blindly against the Spaniards head. When he finally hit the right spot, he was not sure, if there was any air left in his lungs, but he could feel his heart beat fast and heavy in his temples. “David? Are you o.k.? Fábio? Mesut... rato?” His voice was more like a dry cough. “Hooommm!” A soft blip from the bed was the first sound he got. “I’m fine, but you guys look a little messed up...” Fábio seemed to be unharmed, too. “DAVID!” Cristiano pushed the Englishman gently. “I’m here! Where am I? Oh no, I got it... no need to tell me!” Well, that sounded kind of normal, too. The Portuguese rolled over to his feet to take a look at the knocked out Sevillano on the floor. “I would have killed anyone else, if it had not been this stone-headed Taurus...”

The next day was a bright sunny one, with a cloudless morning sky and Cristiano decided to air his hangover out on the pitch. To his surprise he found Sergio on the bench. “Shhh, don’t make any noise, he’s so cute, when he sleeps.” The Mole grinned at the full view. Streched next to the Sevillano lay Mesut, his head resting on the Spaniard’s lap. “Your right, he’s like honey, when he’s like this. Ouh, can you switch off the sun?” “Got a headache? You’re not use to alcohol, Cris. Since when have you been drinking at all?” The Portuguese shrugged. “Well, I guess a lot has changed, but be sure, I will never do it again!” Sergio grabbed a bottle of water next to him and handed it to over with a small box. “Here, have an aspirin and something to drink. Believe me, it helps.” “Are you angry with me?” “Do I have a reason? Don’t look at me like that! I remember everything, but I think, I figured out what happened.” He looked at Cristiano’s puzzeled face. “Look, Pepe told me, you have been putting on some weight and Ricky told me, he was in sorrow, because you ate that little. You see, it’s easy to guess, you’ve been an ascetic for too long. When you went upstairs, you crossed David, and Iker told me, you guys have had, well... As you were drunk, you ended up with him in that room, and when Fábio went in there with Mesut, you both hid in the wardrobe and then I came up and found you guys.” “Kind of... But please, don’t kill Fábio. I will take care of him. I promise, he won’t ever try that again. Why didn’t you attack him at all, but went right over to David and me?” “Cris, he was drunk, too. It was the costume party, AND what ever happens during that night, stays there! Life’s a piece of cake and I’m too in love to stay angry. And I always start with the biggest opponent. Fábio not a good fighter and I did not go straight to David. You were the most dangerous component in this equation... But for me it doesn’t matter now. Cris, for the first time in my life, I’m thinking about settling. This is too big, to be ruined by alcohol.” The Sevillano smiled at the Portuguese and went on. “But I wanted to talk to you about your offer of letting Mesut stay at your place...” “You’re ready to fight for him?” He earned a nod and a bristle with anger. “Well, I will not touch your precious little boyfriend. You proved, you’re prepared to battle for his honour.” They both chuckled. “But be aware of the dragon!” A small idea had started to form in the last corner of the Mole’s brain. It was too early, to be concrete, but he would think it over untill it was turned into a bright plan. Or maybe it would be a cunning one...


	13. Saint Georg's pet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories, burning anger and cunning phone call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me some time to write it, but here it is!

It was much too warm to play football that day, but these kids were used to the conditions. David tried to block the sun with his hands. He had never been to this place before, and till today, he had not been sure, if he liked it. Of course, there were the most exotic flowers growing in the gardens and next to the pavements, but the beauty of nature seemded to vanish next to that boy. The Witchmaster had noticed him, the moment he stepped onto the pitch. He was tall and tan, his dark eyes concentrated on the ball, but were the movements, that gave David goosebups. He had that noble way of lifting his head and looking at his opponents and teammates with a balant misanthropy, the Englishman had never seen at a teenager. He decided to have this one before sunset.  
It was too easy. He used his reputation to get closer. When he entered the place, he had been incognito, but as soon, as he revealed his identity, he was nearly forced to meet the players. And of course, the boy did not refuse his offer of an extra-practice... Cristiano’s skin smelled like caramel and sweat and he didn’t struggle against David’s hands and lips, as they finally were alone. The Witchmaster took time to prepare the kid carefully, he was not sure, if he was the first one, for the boy seemed too comfortable, to loose his virginity right now, but he was too clumsy to be used in seducing someone. David still remembered, how he took care of Cristiano, how he made him groan and come, how he had him scream and cry for more as he filled him...  
When he looked at the Mole now, it was all coming back. The Englishman had never stopped admiring the Portuguese, and he could still see the proud boy, pretending to be confident, in the cold and ambitious young man.

“This is Rapha.” None of them could hold back the laughter, as the most stupid picture of the young Frenchman was beamed onto the wall of the lounge. “We all love him. He is kind, reliable and polite. Click.” “Clack.” A new portrait of the defender showed him with three mobile phones and a laptop. “Rapha is a Magnetico. No, not a Magneto! He has nothing to do with Xmen, Álvaro. He can sense and see magnetic fields and electricity. And I’m sure, there’s a lot more to be dicovered. He can work on mobiles and computers without touching them...” “I would call that a nerd!” “Thank you, Sergio, but let’s stick to the names... You don’t want to be called, what you appear to be every now and then? Click.” “Clack.” A new photo showed the Frenshman looking unfocussed at nothing. “We don’t know, what he sees right here, but it could be your email account...” Ricky had to scream, to be heard over the following brouhaha “... BUT, OF COURSE, RAPHA IS A KIND PERSON! HE WOuld never do such a thing, because he knows about responsibility. Now, we all have asked ourselves one question: Can Rapha send a computer virus by his thoughts? We don’t now that and there is no answer in the Book of Creatures. It was written long before people invented computers and electricity. But it doesn’t matter to us now. Because we love our Rapha, the way he is!”

“How was Ricky’s lesson today?” Florentino chose his words carefully, avoiding long and complicated sentences. “You know, we are doing this with all of the players?” Mesut nodded slowly. It was obvious, he was close to freaking out. “We want this place to be best for our team. That’s why we have to take a closer look sometimes.” He knew, how hard Mourinho fought, not to speak, but they decided, as long as Mesut had no one to support him as a manager, they would have to be very careful with the sensitive midfielder. And now he already looked like he was ready to cry. “Please don’t send me away, I know it’s my mistake, I was not able to support the team during the match, but I will do my best to get back and...” The thin voice broke. “...I would even do the laundry, if you let me stay...” The two older men looked at each other, before the coach stood up and went around the desk to take the seat next to the weeping boy as the boss reached out for the inter phone. He called for Zizou. Maybe the Frenchman was able to stand a crying Darkelve, neither Florentino nor Mou could!

”I’M NOT ANGRY!” Pepe lifted one eyebrow, as Fábio sceamed the words at him. “I might be a little in a bad temper, maybe... But I’m not angry!” Pepe shook his head and waited for the blond man to go on. “Yes, I know, the guys are talking about me, because I tried to seduce Bambi, but I never forced him into anything...” Still, the Rhino kept his mouth closed. He knew the younger one far too good to interrupt now. Fábio couldn’t stand silence for long. “I mean, I haven’t done something wrong. At least, I pointed out the advantage, Mesut has now by being half a girl.” That was enough. “You did what? What did you tell him?” “Just the old Adam and Eve story, you know, the one about the two left abilities...”  
Pepe had talked to Cristiano that morning and asked for permission to take care of Fábio himself. The kid was stupid in his choices and he had a crush on the tall striker, since the first time they met,. although it was no secret, that Cristiano was unreachable for him. Pepe felt sorry for the guy, who had now crossed a line, by playing with the German. Cristiano’s interest in the playmaker’s happiness was obvious and they all knew, he was ready to kill for his concerns. If Fabio wasn’t more carefully, he might end up in the Mole’s black book. But fortunately, Ricky had been already working on his younger friend, so Pepe’s offer, to make sure, Fábio won’t try again, fell on prepared ground. Cristiano had been stressed since the Englishman arrived and Pepe knew the reason: The whole Commonwealth was controlled by one single Mole. A powerful and ruthless global player, whose attention was the last thing Spain needed right now. Cristiano waited for that guy to contact him. And Pepe could smell, their leader was horrified.

Sergio felt something heavy on his shoulders, just before he was pulled back into the locker room. “I will tell you only once, bull! Keep away from him!” The Sevillano felt his back pushed against the wall. He knew, his opponent was strong, but there was no reason to hide. “Or what? I’m not afraid of you, lizard. I love Mesut and he loves me back. SO WHAT?” A thin trace of smoke found it’s way out of the Dragon’s ears. “If you don’t stop it, I’m gonna rip you into pieces. Believe me, there won’t be anything useable left of you.” This time the Spaniard started smoking, too, as he felt the world turn red around him.

“Do you have tissues?” Florentino reached under his table and handed Zizou a pink Hello-Kitty-box. “What the...?” The boss didn’t give Mou the chance to finish his sentence. “That’s what happens, if you let a weird Sevillano do the shopping!”All of them burst into laughter. “See child, don’t let him buy the stuff.” At least it worked in that situation, non of the men in the biggest office at Ciudad Real Madrid was crying any longer. “Well, I guess, since you have no one to help you with the management things, I will be with you, O.k.” Zizou looked into the big doe eyes next to him before he went on. “Good, let’s talk bussiness! Florentino, what do you have to say, to cause such a _déroute_.” “I was about, explaining to Mesut, that we are very happy to have him with us...” “Don’t tell me!” “O.k. Mesut, we will not give you away, sell or even temporary send you to another club. You are precious for the team, even when you didn’t play against Barça. After your visit the guys were more motivated than ever...” “But I did not do a thing.” This time Mourinho didn’t hold back. “Yes and you did a great job. AND although you have a highly questionable taste, you are one of our best players before and even more after the transformation. I’m looking forward to see, how you get the ball from between Iniesta’s four feet. Shouldn’t trouble you at all...” The noise of the fire alarm stopped their conversation.

They met outside on the pitch, everybody was there... Everybody? No, Sergio and Sami were missing. It was no secret to Iker the guys had a problem with eachother and now one more together. The goalkeeper ran back to the locker room, armed with a fire-extinguisher and aimed blindly into the wads of smoke. Slowly the air conditioning system filled the room with clean air and the crime scene was revealed. One of the benches had melted and the wardrobe front next to it didn’t look like before, too. On the floor Iker could recognise the root of this chaos. Still wrestled into a pile of arms and legs and covered with the white foam from the extinguisher, lay the two idiots, in charge of this havoc. “You will have to explain this to the boss and the coach.” And for the first time since a very long time Sami and Sergio agreed: “Shit!”

Cristiano took the day of. There was no practice and he was able to do a lot of paperwork and to think about some things. First: He drank alcohol! He never did before. It was poison for the body and he had seen, what it could do to a person. It still made him shiver. He would never do it again. The second one, he nearly slept with Fábio! He really needed someone, but it was not an excuse, for using a subordinate. The defender was difficult enough, but with this situation, it would be harder to keep him. Pepe had offerd his help after a short visit in the morning and Cristiano was happy to delegate the problem. The Mole leaned back and closed his eyes. Memories caught him again. He remembered the gentle touch of a hand on his bare and wet chest. He could even smell the sea and the grass. He felt his shorts slipping down and his body being lifted onto a table. It had been too fast for him to realize or to react. His legs were placed on the Englishman’s shoulders and he knew, there was nothing he could have done to change it. Sometimes he wondered, if David was still thinking about that day, way back, when Cristiano played in Funchal. He had been too young for all of this and now he had to deal with one of the most powerful Moles of his time because of that hellbender. Many of this species were working in politics, but all of them never showed their influence to the world, often having an artistic job officially. This specific one was an actor and he knew how to lie. And he would call him sooner or later. The Witches seemed chaotic on the first look, but firmly organized internal. They knew about David’s whereabouts and they would expect hm to be sent back. But the Englishman had said he wanted his freedom, wasn’t that the reason for all his actions? Cristiano needed to find a solution for this.  
The phone rang and he had to force himself, to let it go for three more rings. “Hello Jude.” “Oh, how nice of you to expect my call. Honey, how are you?” This sweetness could not betray the Portuguese, this guy was pure danger. “I’m fine thanks. I hope you’ve gone though a mild transformation.” “That’s too kind, my dear. You know, why I call?” The stonecold tune beyond the surface made Cristiano shiver. “I guess, I have something you want.” “Right, let’s say, it ran accidentally to Spain, without even signing off. Send it back and we’re all fine.” “That’s you’re word? I send him back and you keep out? Deal?”  
At this point, dear reader, you have to know, that Moles are murderers, greedy for power, thieves and liars, but a deal sealed between two of them is something they would keep.  
”Deal. Send him back and we’re fine.”  
Cristiano couldn’t hide a grin, when the click of his phone was followed by the familiar toot. That had been too easy. Jude had missed something essential.

“Would you guys please be so kind and tell me, what just happend?” Florentino’s voice was very low. “Well, I guess, we lost a little control about the fire...” “A little?” Still the boss stayed much too calm for the situation. So it was the coach to explode “ARE YOU COMPLETELY BRAINLESS?! YOU COULD HAVE BURNED THE BUILDING AND EVERYBODY IN HERE! YOU WILL HAVE TO GIVE US MORE THAN THIS FLIMSY EXCUSE!” It was a wonder, they heard the careful knock on the door. “Come in!” Florentino commanded and to their surprise Mesut entered with Ricky holding his hand. “Hallo?! I... uhm, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I think, I must take care of this.” The boy looked doubtfully aside, but was confirmed by the nodding Brazilian next to him. “Well, then... Can you tell us, what this is about, child?” “Yes, It’s just about love.” Mourinho focussed the boy, who failed at standing the gaze, then he turned to the two taller players. “It’s always about love.” Ricky added “Are you fighting for his affection, while we have a rematch to prepare?” Sami’s face turned into a dark crimson, he felt caught and betrayed at once. Sergio opened his mouth, but instead of a repartee, he didn’t manage to make any sound at all, a very unusual behaviour for the Sevillano. So Sami was the first one to break the silence. He stepped foreward, grabbed his hoard and held him close. “Look, it’s really simple. This puffed up bastard tried to harm Mesut, but I won’t let him.” Sami’s eyes rested lovingly on the playmakers dark hair. “Listen, I won’t let him, you don’t have to be afraid...” “fmi?” The Darkelve obviously tried to lift his head from the Dragon’s shoulder, but the strong hands held him down. “He won’t touch you again, I will be there, I promise...” “sami?” Still pinned to the broad chest the smaller German managed to turn his head to the side so he was able to breathe again. “I know, I let you down, but it won’t happen again. I will never ever leave you alone...” “Sami?!” Sergio was ready to come into action, but Ricky’s hand s held him back., The Brazilian wanted him to leave this to his boyfriend, although he could hardly restrain himself from defending his love against the Dragon. “I will keep you safe and I will make sure your warm and comfortable, please foregive me, that I abandoned during...” “SAMI! S-A-M-I!!!!!!!!!” The playmaker drummed with his small fists against the taller man’s broad chest and finally got the attention. “Sami, I don’t want to be protected this time. Please understand, it’s not about loving one of you. You will always be in my heart... like a brother, but please get into your head, that I’m not a pet or a thing or...” “But I would never treat you like a thing?!” Sami was shocked. “So get it, I’m a human being and I have needs and...” The boy blushed. “And I don’t want you to beat up Sese!” Sami carefully released his hoard and gulped; his mouth felt dry as a desert. “And I don’t want you to fight Sami. I love you both and untill you get that, I won’t talk to any of you!” “Well, it won’t be your hardest trick not to talk for some time.” Mourinho burst out. “So, if I promise not to wrestle your Dragon again, you are happy?” “Yes Sese, if you manage to be nice to Sami... Huh?” Sergio jumped foreward and hugged the tall, bewildered German.


	14. Of fathers and sons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new family, a regained freedom and a catastrophy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate it, when I'm surprised by my own stories and I'm sorry for what happens! So, please tell me, what you think of it. I'm too tired to work on the spelling, so please ignore the mistakes!

„You have to relax. You’re save here, you know. But I am happy you are careful general. Life outside is dangerous, indeed and these boys are brimful of testosterone and they are only waiting for someone like you. So don’t let your guards down. If you get the feeling, one of them is misbehaving, don’t hesitate to tell me. I will take care of them.” Zizou was stroking Mesut’s back carefully during his speach. He had been impatient to give this lecture to the young German, who seemed so lost since his family dropped him, after he transformed into something they could not understand. The Frenchman was sure, the boy was a gift, precious and fragile. He needed guidance and protection, but most important, he needed the feeling of being loved the way he was. Zizou looked down into the big black eyes. Haven’t they been brown before Weargus Day? “You can call me whenever you need me. If you get tired of living with Cristiano for some time or if Sami freaks out again or if Sergio doesn’t treat you as good as you deserve...” “You miss them, don’t you?” It was only one short sentence, but it did not fail his effect on the older man, whose eyes were slowly filling with tears. “It’s o.k., let it go. We both lost our families. And I understood your offer to catch my fall, but I can only accept, if you let me save you, too. I always wished to have someone, who understands..., well, me. Someone like you. Can we be a family?” The Frenchman reached out and hugged the kid in front of him. His next words were no more than a whisper. “I already adopted you, when you arrived, you know I learned German and Turkish. Everytime I watch you playing, it feels like seeing a younger and lighter version of myself. Can you imagine looking at me like a child to his father?” “Can we cut the talking and just act, like it’s natural?” The German had never been a person of many words and it was one of his traits Zizou liked best. “Well, then you might be the daughter, I always wished to have.” “Stop grinning and get used to it! I’m both: Son and daughter! Now, will you teach me some tricks after practice?”

Cristiano entered the locker room later than normal. “Are you o.k.?” He had not expacted anyone to be around still. “Yes Fábio, I’m fine. My son had a check-up and it took a little longer than...” “Is he ill?!?” “No, he’s not ill, but crotchety, so I asked the doctor, if there was something wrong. But he’s fine. It’s just... Well, never mind.” Fábio watched the Mole leaving. He really wished he could help, but Cristiano would never listen to him.

“Hey Cris?” Ricky leaned over and smiled. “Want to stretch with me?” The Portuguese nodded. “Ate your tongue for breakfast?” “No, I just had a rough day. I finally had the phone call from England.” The Brazilian’s face immediatly froze. “Please tell me, it’s going to be allright and we do not have to fight this one...” “Ricky relax, he made a mistake and we’re going to use it. He made a deal with me and the parcel is already on it’s way back.” “Oh, so that’s the reason...” “Huh?” “You look sad today.” “What?” “Well, I’m sorry. I know, you have a weakness for David and I thought you would like to keep him, I know, you think about the time when...” “Ricky, please! Not here, not now! And I did not say, I sent David to England!” The Mole grinned at Ricky’s raised eyebrows. Still, he had to think about where the playmaker got his informations about him.

“Hallo?!? Karim? Can we talk for a moment?” The striker turned from his locker to the German. “Of course, something wrong? I heard Zizou asked you to a conversation this morning, was it something about the club?” “No, it was just personal... Uhm, he told me, some of the guys were staring at my butt, when I shower...” “Well, do you think that’s new? Don’t be afraid, Sami promised everyone a good fight, if he dares to...” “Karim!?! I never noticed. It feels like, I lived somewhere else...in another world” “Please Ozzy, you know, non of them means bad. It’s just... some might like to look at pretty things...” “Karim, please tell, you did not change your stance on me since the transformation. I mean, we’re still buddies, aren’t we?” The Frenchman stared back at the desperate German. “You really have trouble in understanding the people around you, don’t you? Well, then I’m gonna help you out. We’re friends, bros, buddies... best buddies forever! I never thought about kissing you in a different way, than I ever kissed my brothers. I could say, I love you, but never I am in love. Get it?” “Got it.” “Good! Now ask me about the rest of the crew.”

“This is Pepe.” The first picture of the defender in a ridiculous pose was accopanied by cheers and applause from the whole team. “He is a Rhino. That means, he can get anry very fast. Click.” “Clack.” The next one showed the Portuguese running with his head helt down. “He doesn’t mean it, but he might hurt someone, if he goes like this. So please stay out of his way, do not provocate or endanger yourself or others. You might hide behind Cris, who can control Pepe most of the time, or behind Sami, who might be able to block most of the crash or behind Sergio, who always deserves a knock out. We all love Pepe, for he is funny and kind and sometimes a little over the top. Click.” “Clack.” On the next photo, the defender was lifting up Marcelo with one arm. “As you can see, Pepe is very strong, that’s why we are even more happy to have him on our side. Now, we’ve all asked ourself, can he run through walls. Click.” “Clack.” In a short video Pepe crashed head first against the lounge wall, leaving destroyed plastering, but an intact stonework. “No, he cannot, but this doesn’t matter to us, because we all love our little rhinoceros just the way he is.”

“David?” The Englishman jumped up as he realized Mourinho in the doorframe. “I hear you will stay with us.” The blond stared at the older man in disbelieve. “I guess, my coven won’t let me go and I’m still bound to Jude, you know. I don’t think Cris could pay the price...” The young Portuguese’s head appeared behind his coach. “Well, I had no idea, you’re interested in Mole-business. But now that you asked...” “What the hell are you talking about?.” David’s voice cracked as he felt his heart beat in his temples. Cristiano took the seat next to the Englishman. “You came here for freedom and independence, right? So, I thought about, how to solve your little problem. AND I did! Jude and I made a deal. He wanted me to send someone from his sphere back and I returned him that Spanish Erinye.” “You gave him Frenando instead of me?” “He didn’t say a name and he said, he wanted back, what ran away. I guess, he hadn’t even noticed, yet.” The Mole smirked showing his shark-teeth. “What are you going to do about the Witches?” “Well, let’s say, the Mistress asked me for a favour some years ago... And I think, I could give it to her now. She won’t be supported by Jude, so she can take my offer or just leave it be. She has no way of pushing through her interests.” It was the moment for David to start crying. He had dreamed about this for too long and now... A sudden thought crossed his mind. He had been dealing with Moles before and if he had learned something at all, it was to ask the next question: “What do you expect me to pay?”

“Oi nenê, I heard you’re going to move to Zizou’s place.” Ricky sank down next to the Darkelve in the lobby. “Yes, he asked me to, and I don’t want to bother Cris any longer.” “I don’t think you disturb him, you help him so much with the baby!” “Yes, I really love the boy, I guess I’m going to miss him most.” “You can see him every day at the nursery, I’m sure Cris will let you babysit.” The smile on the Brazilian’s face had grown wider. “I think, you’re good for him. He’s much more relaxed since you take care of him.” “Are we talking about the father or the son?” Ricky was just about to answer ‘both’, when the couch they both sat on was flipped back. He realised a security guard on the floor, before he saw the big hand reaching out for the shocked German. The next few seconds Ricky thought about a million thoughts at the same time. ‘I need to protect him, where is Cris, when you need him, why is Sami already on his way home, what am I going to do, oh, Lord...” He grabbed the hand, pulled firmly and felt the heaviness of a huge fighter hitting his body. He knew, Mesut had been waiting for Cris to take him home, so it was just a matter of time untill the Mole would enter the lobby. The Brazilian started counting in his head. ‘um’ one hand searching his pocket for the ashes he had saved from his last treatment. ‘doiz’ He felt the big hands close around his neck. ‘três’ pulling out a fist ful of ashes he threw it into his attacker’s face, but it didn’t work at all. His magic was useless here. ‘quatro’ He wished he could tell Mesut to run, but there was no air left in his lung, as the German jumped on the tall man’s back trying to move him away or at least detract him. ‘cinco’ His ears started ringing from the hell of a noise, but he was not sure, if it was real. ‘seis’ A last attempt. Ricky focussed all of his energy into one punch... ‘sete’ but he could not control his arms and the world around him turned into nothing but fog and mist. “OITO!” He turned around at the child’s voice and looked at Luca... “What are you doing here in the stadium? Papai is going to have an important match now. From his point of view Ricky could see the entrance to the pitch and he could hear the people outside screaming his name. Gently he caressed his son’s head. “Go to mãeinha, will you?” The boy smiled up to him, took his hand and pulled him to the entrance, where the roar of the crowd grew louder. Maybe his Son was there to accopany him onto the pitch... Ricky did not wonder why there were no other players down with him, as he stepped into the bright glistening flood light...

Cristiano never used weapons. Well, of course he was trained to fight with them, but he prefered his bare hands. Now as he found, the Demon turned the lobby into a battle field, he dropped his arms down and felt the weight of the steel fans hitting his palms. These Japanese works of art were the most beautiful things he had ever seen, and he was still unsure if he liked the fine ornamets or the deadly blades of the 32 carefully sharpened segments best. Cristiano noticed his best friends corpse on the floor and he could tell a dead body, when he found one. His world and his thoughts turned to ice, as everything around him slowed down untill it was in slowmotion and he the only creature moving at normal speed. “Let the Elve down. And I may finish you without torture.”  
Zlatan snuffled. He focussed the Portuguese in front of him and realised, he had not planed this. He had been around this place for quite some time, waiting for the German to make a mistake, but there was always someone around. The Swede knew, he was sronger than these ridiculous bunch of schoolboys, he was not afraid of the Dragon and the bull or the bad tempered Druid and the Rhino. But he had tried to avoid the Mole. Now it was too late to think about that. “Or what? I will crush him the moment you move, pretty boy.” Slowly the Demon stepped backwards. Still, the tan guy with the addiction to hair gel stayed calm and his voice was even lower than before. “let him down, or I’ll forget, that this is a semi-public place.”  
Dear reader, this is the point, when I have to explain, Moles never act openly in public. If they kill or slaughter someone, it would always happen behind closed doors. And the lobby, where this scene takes place, can be seen from outside through some well cleaned windows. So Cristiano wouldn’t have done something molesque (or maybe the word is molific) at this place, but as you can imagine, he was in a state of emergancy now.  
Zlatan realised the fast motion in front of him as a flash of light, that blinded him and he noticed the short sting that drove right through him, but still, he was surprised, as he felt his body fall appart. Cut into two clean pieces right under his ribcage. He even had time to realise, his feet standing next to his upper body, as he started spitting blood. The last thing he heard was the most horrifying words a descended of the inner circle of hell could imagine. “I know, it’s only your instincts. I forgive you.”


	15. Preparations for life and death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grief, a conspirative meeting and a well kept secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still sorry for what happend and admit, I cried while writing this chapter... But I have not given up hope, the next one will be less blue. Please, feel free to comment!

Cristiano had brought Mesut to the medics upstairs, sent a short message to his inner crew with the order to move to the lobby and to clean up and then had taken a shower and waited in the lounge for the boss to call for him. He felt nothing, but empyness. He knew, he should be shocked, angry or at least sad or maybe desperated, but there was nothing left. He was ready, to finish his plans, to conquer whatever... He could not remember his final aim! He needed to think, before taking the next step, but now, he had to talk to the boss about the structure changes and the possibilities of replacing Ricky. A sudden headache made him close his eyes. He would never say this name again! At least he had a crew to count on. Of course, they might need some time to get over it, but he was sure, they would work even harder, now that they had to compensate one man less. They had been well instructed, so the Mole could test their ability to work under pressure... Cristiano surpressed the need to scream, who was he trying to fool? He was a nervous wreck!  
The first thing Marcelo and Pepe had to do when they arrived, was taking Fábio upstaires, because of the trauma he had suffered, when he found Ricky’s dead body. “Do you mind if I puke, too?” Marcelo broke the silence, as they got back down to the battle field. “Can we clean this mess first? If you wait, we can go to the rest room and I will hold back your hair, while you throw up.”  
Rapha was directed to contact each network Cristiano had in and the Frenchman would be busy for days. Iker and Sergio had left early for Barcelona the same night and they did not come back with anything helpful. The meeting in Florentino’s office after their return included Mourinho, Zidane and Cristiano. “We spoke to Puyol and Xavi. They assured us, they had nothing to do with this attack and they had no idea the Swede was in Spain at all.” Iker reported. “I believe them.” Sergio added “They were too shocked to lie. Let’s face it, who disliked Ricky?” The boss turned to Mourinho. “Have you phoned with Italy, yet?” “Yes, Gigi told me, he had given up on the Swede years ago, he said, he was uncontrollable.” “Do you trust him?” The coach took his time to think, before he answered “Not as far as I can throw him, but I guess we should consider, it could be a single perpetrator. What do you think Cristiano?” All heads turned to the Mole, who had not spoken a word, since he slaughtered the Demon in the lobby. The young Portuguese looked much too calm for the circumstances. Now, that he was adressed directly, he just got up from his chair and headed to the door. “What I think? I’m going to talk to Caroline now. Someone has to.” And he rushed out of the room, leaving the men without an proper answer.

“Pipita? Do you avoid us?” Karim and Álvaro ambushed the Argentine. “No, well, maybe... I don’t know... What are you doing?” The Frenchman started rubbing his head against his collegue, purring at unbelievable volume. “I’m sorry, but I can’t stop it...” “Oh, o.k. if it’s creature’s natural behaviour... Go on.” “Do you like it?” The South American blushed at the question. “Let’s say, I do not hate it.” “Back to our question, you’ve been withdrawing for some time...” Álvaro used his best puppy glance. “Guys, I don’t feel good at the moment. You know, there has been no contact to South America at all for weeks and I really miss Ángel...” The more he tried not to sniff, the more he looked sad. “You’ve always been a bad actor.” Karim purred and Álvaro did the only thing, that felt right. He hugged both of them. “We need to help each other now. We need every man left, after...” Karim’s words worked as a trigger. All of them had heard the horrible news this morning and non of them was able to cope with it. When their teammates found the trio, they were crying helplessly on the floor. And most of them joined.

“Sami, I’m fine. I’m neither hurt nor wounded or something.” “But this Demon nearly crushed you. I can see the bruises...” The tall man had tried to get the progression of events out of his friend’s mouth for three hours, yet. “It will heal. Can we please change the subject, I don’t want to think about this...” Mesut looked miserable as he started shivering. “This is not about me...Don’t you understand? HE DID NOTHING TO ME!” The last sentence was screamed at the Dragon, who lifted his hoard carefully to make him rest against his shoulder. “I was not able to help HIM, Sami. I tried, but it was not enough. I should have done more, maybe Ricky would still be alive and... this guy was originally after me, it should have been me to die not him...” This moment Lena was lead into the room by a nurse and entered the bed with her two boys without hesitating. “So finally you let it go, hmm?” Her hand found a way to the playmaker’s indigo hair and her fingers started playing with the soft strands. “It’s o.k., just tell me what happend.” And with one simple question, she got the whole story from the frightened boy, she started to call ‘beste Freundin’.  
Xabi found Sami drenched in tears outside the room. “Hey? Is Mesut hurt?” “No, it’s just that he doesn’t need want me close...” “I don’t believe that! You know, in most cases he’s just missunderstood. So on what evidence leads you to your result?” “I tried to get to know what happend, but all I did was making him hysteric. Lena needs one stupid sentence and he opens up like a flower to the sun... After he spat out all his fear and horror, I simply wanted to hold him, but in rushes Zizou to send us out. I still don’t get what his sudden interest in Mesut is about, but I’m have an eye on him...” “Hmhm? Want my interpretation?” Xabi knew, he and Sami had a lot in common. So he chose the same words he would have liked to hear himself in such an odd situation. “Lena had an easy game, because you had worked him for hours. Without your preparation, she wouldn’t have got a sniff.” The dragon tilted his head, he was much calmer now. “And about Zizou... You know, he has lost it all? His whole family died during the transformation and he always kind of looked at Mesut as if he was another son of him. Now, he heard, that his ‘new’ child was in a very dangerous situation. Come on, think about it. Of course he freaked out! He wouldn’t survive another loss.” “Your right. I cannot be too egoistic with Mesut. Especially when it comes to our Frenchman. He always adored this guy and let’s face it, it’s an hounor Zizou is kind of singling him out....” “By the way, where’s Lena?” “She drove home to get Mesut’s blanket.”

“Is there anything I can do for you? Please tell me whatever it is, I will...” “Cris, he wouldn’t have wanted a vendetta.” The beautiful woman in front of the Portuguese looked sad, but her voice was calm. “And he wouldn’t have wanted you to go into any danger or pain-causing whatever. You know, he always tried to teach you, that it’s all about love?” “I could use my network, to contact one of his necromancing friends in Brazil to...” “Please, Cris! It’s called priest of live and death! And we don’t need any necromancy here. He was always fighting the dark forces, his way was the light. Don’t you remember?” “But we have to do something!” “Yes, can you tell whoever asks, what a kind and loving person he was?” The Mole stared at the young widow. “It is the last thing we can do for him.”

“How long do you think, we can conseal this from the media?” Florentino did not reply to Mourinho in front of him, he just turned the screen on his desk. “They already know? What are we going to do?” “Nothing untill we talked to Ricky’s wife. She is the one to decide, what the public needs to know and how his funeral is going to be organized...” A knock on the door interrupted them. “Come in.” And after a short break Karim’s face apeared in the gap. “There’s Bellatrix Lestrange at the gate and she said she’s here for Cris. She scared the hell out of Álvaro. What shall I do with her?” “Bring her to the lounge and offer her something to drink. I go and bring Cristiano myself.” Florentino got up to go and visit Caroline.

David couldn’t believe, what Iker had told him. It was all his fault! He had brought Zlatan to Spain, he had set him on Mesut’s trail. He had caused Ricky’s death... And now in this situation Cristiano was about to face the head of the british coven. He was determined to go downstairs and stop the Mole from whatever he was going to offer that hag, but Iker blocked the door and as the Englishmen finally managed to get past the goalkeeper, he walked into that weird Sevillano, who pushed him back into the room. “Sit down and do not rush into the next cunning, stupid plan. Cris knows, what to do... most of the time.” That was all he got from Iker. But these kids didn’t know the Portuguese the way David did. He appeared to be strong and tough, but under the surface, under the cruel coldness and the calm arrogance was still the helpless, overstrained boy, he met on a summer’s day in Funchal...

Fábio served Helena a cup of coffee himself to get a closer look. She was pale and charming, seemed intelligent and confident and she was all smiles and sweetness while she was waiting for their leader. Fábio was horrified, that woman was a trained assassin.

“Cris, please be careful.” Mou took him aside. “She is dangerous.” “I know what to do, don’t lecture me about Witches. I had more than enough of them for two lifes.” “That’s what I ment. Don’t let her get to close to you.”  
But Cristiano had no choice. He had made his decision and sealed it with a deal with the Leader of the Commonwealth. He would go through it. The Witch had asked him to her service two month before he left Manchester for Madrid, now he was ready to let her have her will. He didn’t even care, the team might hear them. He invited Helena into his office, the club gave him for his politic works after Weargus Day, led her to the desk and started kissing her without waiting for another sign. They both knew the price for David. Sergio had been right after their costume party, Cristiano had not been laid for far too long, so maybe he was even able to enjoy this duty. Witches were good in getting the best of you and so he leaned back and let her do whatever she wanted. He ignored her teasing insults, he didn’t care for the pain in his back, as she pushed him hard. He even ignored his accelerating heartbeat with the slight, but clear breaks at the wrong moments. Two days ago it might have been enough, to freak him out. He would have run to Ricky and the Brazilian would have calmed him before accompanying him to a hospital. But it was not two days ago, it was now and Cristiano didn’t care for his imperfect body any more.

“He’s close to a breakdown.” Pepe looked at the inner crew. “We have to stop him or he will follow Ricky before the funeral is even planned.” “How can you say that!” Fábio was ready to defend his leader against friend or foe. “Listen to me, he had been close to the edge for weeks and now, without someone telling him, everything’s going to be allrght and him believing that, it’s only a matter of time.” His voice turned softer. “I know you love him Fáb, but face it, he doesn’t believe you, he doesn’t trust anybody else. That’s the point. He’s been taught to think of the worst case... of situations, of people, of whatever! Ricky was the only one he believed, life could be a bright and happy thing. I caught him falling asleep at his desk this morning and he refused to eat since...” “Is there something we can do? I don’t want to lose someone else!” Marcelo’s remarked worried. “I might have a solution...” All heads turned to Rapha. They weren’t used to the shy Frenchman talking, without being asked. “He still has a network in the West. You know, his goal had never been to bring peace to Europe or something sentimental like that. He wanted Brazil. He wanted it for Ricky. That’s what pushed him all this time. And although, there had been a newsblockade from South America, he still has contacts.” “Are you telling us to ask a Necromancer for help?!” Marcelo shook his head. “Well, it would be a possibility, but we must know the cost.” “If it’s a chance, we pay!” This time non of them disagreed with Fábio.

”Of course, it must be in a church, with a proper service and enough room for his family and friends to say their farewell.” Florentino was a little surprised, that the Brazilian had planned this occasion with his wife. “If you need something, please don’t hesitate to contact me or anyone else from the club. Yes?” She lifted her head. “Well, I would like to talk to Mesut and Mou. Nothing more or less. Don’t be afraid, I’m prepared. God will guide me through this valey of tears and will help me to find my way back to the sun.” The boss was impressed by Caroline’s immense strengh. “If you wish you can accopany me now to meet the coach, but I’m not sure, if Mesut is ready to see you, yet. He was around, when... You know.” “It’s allright, I think he can face me. I guess, it might even help him to heal.”

After three hours Helena left. Cristiano felt nothing but empty again, he did not hate or enjoy the sex at all. He just didn’t care. As he brought the Witch to the exit, he ignored the expressions on his teammates’ faces. They had been too loud, to leave any doubt about what just happened. Back in his office he had planned to work on some contracts and reports, he had delayed, but a sudden dizziness made him sit down on the floor right next to his chair. The world turned much too fast for that split second and if he had not felt so miserable, he would have thought of Sergio’s jokes about him. But choked hard and the bitter taste of acid at the back of his mouth. He grabbed the carpet to fill the sudden need of bracing himself and he started counting... It was only a short moment and he was ready to ignore it after it was gone. There were countries to be crashed and people to be murdered, he had no time for his annoying imperfection.

“You asked for a conversation?” Mourinho leaned foreward to the brown haired woman all dressed in black. “Yes, we have to talk about Cris.” “Yes, I know, he is close to nervous breakdown. Your husband always held him back from...” “No, I was talking about the baby.” Her words made the coach stop in the middle of his sentence. His jar dropped. “Do you know the truth about the child?” “I don’t think, I have the same insight into our Mole’s mind as your husband had.” “Well, have you found the identity of the mother, yet?” “No, we tried and we have not given up, but untill now... well, without any success.” “You can stop searching for her... Don’t look at me like that. It’s not what you think right now! I was appalled, too, because this is unbelievable.” “Please don’t torture me with insinuations.” “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. There is no Mother.” The Portuguese stared open mouthed at the widow. “There never was a mother. That’s why you cannot find her. He is a clone.” With a gesture Mou made her wait for a moment. He stood up and got a bottle of water and two glasses. After he emptied his in one, he waved her to go on. “You know, Cristiano has this heart defect? For a Mole it means a catastrophy. It is a prove of imperfection, the most humiliating thing to be. So after his real parents died, his tutors planned to make some profit with him and as his desease showed up, they decided, to get a better version. It took them years of preparation, because they wanted the copy without the desease, and when Cristiano found out, he killed his ‘father’, although, he seemed to have liked him a lot. Did you really believe in the story about the organ failure? Anyway, Cristiano needed time to find the lab, they had assigned and when he finally got there, he found the work finished. Every other Mole would have killed the Baby without hesitation, but Cristiano phoned Ricky first...” A tear ran down her face. “Of course, you can imagine my husband’s reply! That’s how Cristiano became a father.”


	16. Saint Lazarus of Bethany

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An invited guest, an uncomfortable church and a conversation between two worlds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did this chapter for my sister. She literally begged me to write this (well, not exactly, but...) She offered to kneel down and she threatend me severe punishment. If you don't know the song, I mention, please listen to it. It's so beautiful. Please tell me, what you think of this chapter.  
> And one last note for my sister: This is not a bedtime story. It was never meant to be, so stop complaining, you cannot sleep after reading. ;-)

„When will he come? Or she?“ Pepe looked up from his sixth cup of coffee. “Well, they said something like, thank you for this invitation. One of us be there right in time.” Marcelo felt goosebumps on his forearm. “It’s creepy, they always have to make such a fuss about having to be asked. How is HE?” There was no need in saying the name, Pepe knew exactly, who the Brazilian was concerned about. “Cris did not sleep or eat. His face showed no facial expression and he did not speak one word more than necessary.” Fábio shook his head. “I wish, we could help.” “But we do!” Rapha replied. “We’re doing the best we can, to disburden him. And I heard, the Necromancers are able to work wonders...” All they had to do, was sticking to their cunning plan!

“Listen guys! Caroline asked me to tell you this.” Mourinho looked into the tired faces of his team. “Sergio and Xabi, you will carry the front of the coffin and Pepe and Sami, you will carry the back. Don’t look at me like this Ke, Zizou will be with Mesut. Cristiano will arrive with Caroline and please do not bother any of them. There will be a lot of guest and all of them own the right to say goodbye. The funeral starts at nine and you will all try to behave at your best...” He knew, this time the last sentence was not necessary, but he was too used to it, to leave it unsaid.

The church was decorated with white flowers, Fábio had spent hours with this and he had done a good job. The room was already crowded, when something strange caught Cristiano’s attention. It was a slight buzzing sound, not loud enough to be concrete, but continualy disturbing ‘Pachelbel’s canon in D Major’. The Mole looked around, he had had a hard time and it was possible, his mind played a trick on him. Non of his team mates seemed to notice and he was just about to leave it be, when his eyes met the big black orbs across the room. Mesut leaned against Zizou three lines behind, on the aisle. The Portuguese was sure, the playmaker heard it too! But it was too late to act now, as the service started  
It was right in the middle, after the priest had given a short summery of Ricky’s life, when the sound grew louder. It caused, Mourinho to search for the troublemaker, but the usual suspects were looking around in confusion, too. Cristiano thought already about murdering the culprit, who dared to disturbe, but he had never expected of the following situation. With a loud bang the crypt was opend and a creature dressed in a very dirty bishop’s robe crawled out, followed by more undead. “THANK YOU FOR YOUR INVITATION TO DO MY WORK AT A PLACE SO WELL EQUIPPED!” Even Piqué seemed appalled at his wife’s words, Carolina screamed in pure horror and Cristiano dropped his arms to get his steel fans. But everything happend much too fast and he was too afraid of meeting a zombie version of the man he had loved so much. The noise of the metal hitting the floor, after it slipped his shivering, sweated hands even drownd the howls of the undead. Shakira slowly stepped foreward uneffected by the chaos her new armee had already caused. The priest was their first victim, the stupid man really had thought his cross and bible might protect him. She was pretty pleased with her performance, till she passed the third bench from the front. She had never expected to be attacked by one of the civilians, as the black haired, doe eyed ‘girl’ knocked her with a perfectly aimed punch.  
Mesut had never been a fighter. He was miserable at martial arts and it had always been accepted by his coaches, well knowing, there would always be someone to jump in for him. Of course he had learned, watching Sami, Sergio or Iker doing their workouts. And he had the privilege being alowed to study Cris. And he understood, that the slow and elegant movements, the Mole was practicing, were an exact, deadly dance, when done at a normal speed. If he had learned something, it would be a good technique. All his senses told him, this blond woman was the root of the evil happening around him now. He was a peaceful person, but he had been taught not to turn the other cheek and he suddenly knew exactly what to do. He needed to stop her and he needed help for this. There was only one person, who could beat an army of undead. He jumped up, found a gap between the fighting people and the zombies and ran to the front of the church, moving his lips in a silent prayer. He did not hear Zizou calling his name, David summoning his broom (How did he manage to bring an broom to a funeral secretly?), or Sergio calling them to fight on. He did not see Cristiano falling on his knees, cold sweat on his forehead and his right hand pressed against his aching chest. He needed Ricky NOW!

It was the match of his life, he was playing agianst them all and he was winning. In his ears he heard the cheers of the crowed and when he looked up, he found his family waving and applauding. He was happy, but sudenly a raindrop met his nose. The temperature changed so fast, he had no time to be surprised, but the ravens on the goal’s crossbar made him hesitate. Invisible claws started pulling him back and he felt his strength fading. With a chocked scream he tried to reach out into the disapearing world around him and he found a small, but firm hand to support him. His eyes got used to the darkness around him and there he was! “Ricky, we need you! Someone invited a Necromancer to your funeral. Please, I don’t know, how to fight her.” “My funeral? Oh, I see...” “Your wife needs you, and Luca and Isabella and the twins...” “Twins?!” “Come on, you know, she’s pregnant.” He sighed. “So who am I, to rest, if you ask me to service.” He smiled at the desperate German in front of him. “Let’s see, if the club finds a good explanation for this.” “We’re eaten by zombies and you think of press conferences...”  
As they made their way back into the mist inbetween the spheres, Ricky noticed a familiar silhouette. His brain started working immediatly and he held Mesut back, turning to the figure right in front of him. “Wait a second! What are you doing here?” The shadow slowly grew into a pale, but tall man. “I.. I was just about going aboard. I want to go home, but...” Cristiano’s voice broke. “...but I cannot reach the boat. Something’s pushing me back and I’m not strong enough.” A single tear ran down his face and the Brazilian pulled him close into a hug. “Will you promise me to wait here for me to help you escape your personal hell? Just sit down and do not move, whatever happens!” Cristiano nodded slowly. He looked like a lost child and Mesut felt sorry for the Portuguese, but he did not understand the consequence of his team mate’s presence at this place between two worlds.

Sergio was wrestling with a big, ugly Zombi made of a former royal. He was trying to prevent him from eating his love, when he was hit by something hard and very heavy on the top of his head. The strike was so strong, he saw nothing but stars for a few seconds... For God’s sake the coffin lid landed on the Sevillano’s cement skull, it hurt, but it was not deadly for the Taurus, who had some experiences in destroying wooden doorframes with his forehead.

Shakira cheered, when the coffin finally opened. She was sure, the sight of the mourned playmaker, turned into one of her tools, would kill all of their resistance and she could be the mistress of Spain, calling a big army and... “This is holy ground! You walk on sacred floor! The air you breath is blessed! You have no power over me! Let the ashes go, you cannot keep what’s God’s!”  
It took nearly two minutes until the dust of the dead bodys turned into ashes at Ricky’s last words settled enough, so they were able to see anything at all. Most of the people church were still alive, but the thick layer of fine powder made it hard to recognise the faces.  
Sami was close to panic. Where was Mesut! A second ago he had been standing at the coffin. The dragon remembered to smell with his tongue. He closed his eyes, darted fast and reached into the open box, next to the surprisingly alive and kicking Brazilian playmaker lay the boy curled into a ball. Slowly the Dragon lifted his precious out of the coffin and pressed him against his broad shoulder. Mesut did not move, but gave a low snoring sound. “Are you hurt? Did something bite you? What are you doing up here? You should have stayed with Zizou, he promised to protect you...” Ricky tipped the tall German’s arm “You know, you might choke him one day with this and I can tell you, it’s not a death to be desired.” Sami nearly dropped Mesut. This Brazilian had always been good in calling a spade a spade, but this time...  
Caroline was torn between running to her husband, to touch him, to make sure, she did not dream, but there was Cristiano in her arm. The Mole had not moved, since he hit the floor. Fábio was the first one to notice the ‘strange’ behaviour of their leader. “Cris, what are you doing? Did he... FAINT?” But Caroline’s serious face made him hesitate. “What’s wrong with him?!” Pepe, probably the only person around, who could lift the Mole easily, sank down next to Ricky’s wife and touched the man’s throat with his fingertips. He did not find a pulse!  
“Whose idea was that horror scenario?” Ricky climbed intricate out of his coffin and walked over to Craoline, closing his arms around his now weeping wife. “And were is Shakira?” “Under control!” Lena was kneeling on the small Argetine singer. She had followed Mesut’s example attacking the Necromancer and after Ricky had broke the spell, it had been a piece of cake for the model, to punch the hell out of the smaller blond.  
The revived playmaker leaned carefully into the embrace of his wife and focussed his senses, Mesut had been right. Two new spirits were growing under Caroline’s heart. He smiled sad and turned to Mourinho. “Would you be so kind and call an ambulance? Cris will need help fast. And can one of you do a cardiac massage? I’m too weak to do it myself.”


	17. A miracle would do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hopeless beginning, a sleeping kid and some voodoo-action

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's much too late... So please ignore my misspelling. I'm not quite satisfied with this chapter, but it had been blokadin me, so I decided to post it anyway.

„We can be happy, he survived at all…“ Florentino’s speach caused gasps and protests. “This was too close. Please make sure, you do not disturb him for the next few weeks. Any stress can give him another heart attack.” The last 24 hours had been a rollercoster ride for the team. First they went to mourn their dead friend, then they were forced to fight for their lives against a wild bunch of Zombies, while Ricky’s corpse turned out to be alive again. AND during this moment of absolute confusion Cristiano had suffered a severe heart attack. The doctors had been able to reanimate him, but the Mole was too weak to walk, talk or of cause, protect his ground against the enemies... There was already a bet in the British coven, who would be the next big boss of ‘Iberia’ and Rapha had to deal with a lot of sarcastic emails on Cristiano’s account. Prepared as they were, the Mole’s inner circle kept close to their emergency plan: Pepe was patroling, ready to knock anybody or anything down, whenever he sensed danger... even if it turned out to be Karim and Álvaro playing in the corridors. Marcelo took care of Cristiano’s everyday life. He made sure the housekeeper did a proper job at the Mole’s place, he fed the cat and he tried to brush it’s long, curly fur, although he was afraid of this ill tempered, aggressive pet. Fábio suffered. He tried to read his leader’s mind, made tea, made sure everybody lowered their voices and covered Cristiano with a blanket, whenever he struggled it down in his fitful sleep. He stayed as close as possible, never missing the Mole being awake, resting at his side, when he was asleep. But Cristiano did not notice Fábio’s efforts, or Marcelo’s, Pepe’s or Rapha’s. Everytime he opened his eyes, only one question filled his thoughts: “Where’s Ricky?” But the Brazilian never showed up and Cristiano didn’t care for anything else. If the playmaker had dropped him, he could just as well die... After three days Cristiano became weaker. And he asked for different people to talk to. He started to prepare.

“Iker, can we talk...?” It was one of these rare moments, the Sevillano spoke with a low and unconfident voice. “Come in, of course. What is it?” “It’s about the future. Do you think Cris will survive?” “Sergio! We cannot doubt this! Of course he will! We have to think positively, if we don’t, we will lose! You know that!” “Yes, but he just called me...” The goalkeeper’s jar dropped. “What did he say?” “He said, he wanted to talk to Mesut, but, you know, he’s still asleep. The resurrection took more energy, than he had.” Sergio sighed. He was woried about his lover, who had not opened his eyes, since the miracle at Ricky’s funeral. “Well, Cris said, if Mesut wasn’t able to listen to him, I should be the one. He asked us to take care of the baby!” Iker felt the same desperation as his younger friend. “He told you to... What!?! O.k., he’s given up! Shit! These are no good news. Did he tell you, why he chose you for that task? You know, you’ve never been best of friends...” “He said, it’s because of Mesut. Baby Cris already calls him mummy...” “I always thought, he tries to teach him, how to say ‘Mesut’. But Cris is right, his son reaches out for your darling, each time he sees him and starts humming a long line of ‘Ms’.” “I’m not ready for a baby... And I’m not ready to bury Cris. AND non of us is ready to fight the attackers from the outside.” Iker looked into Sergio’s dark, teary eyes. The Taurus was right. If their Mole died, there would be a storm ahead. The Hell Lords from Italy were already sharpening their blades, the eastern covens had a close eye on them, the northern Frostking would be delighted, to have Spain and Portugal as a breadbasked for his starving people in the snow and they all knew about the dangerous Mole of the Common Wealth. If these fractions started a war about the Iberian Peninsula... Iker knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep that night without having nightmares.

Sami did not leave Mesut’s side. He blamed Zizou. The Frenshman had promised to watch after his hoard at the funeral and he had failed! And Lena was no help at all! It made no change for the Dragon, the doctors and his fiancée kept telling him, the younger German would be allright. Sami was nearly mad with sorrow. And every now and then this terrible Spanish defender dropped by, to inquire after Mesut’s state,to ask, if he could do something, Sami swore to himself to kill that idiot, as soon, as he found the right occacion. At least he came to the point... All THIS was Sergio’s fault! Someone had to be blamed. And the midfielder was sure, Sergio was not a proper match for Mesut. In consequence he had to be removed as soon as possible. “You have to rest, Schatz, please.” Sami hadn’t even noticed her entering the room. “How long do you think, you can stand this. You can sleep at his side, just lay down next to him, but please, Schatz, Sami, please...” Well, maybe she was right, he was even too tired, to be angry with her.

“Have you tried to contact Irina?” Pepe didn’t look at the Frenshman, he was talking to. He focussed on cleaning Marcelo’s scratched forearms. The Brazilian really tried to look brave, but he winced and gasped everytime the Portuguese touched the wounds with the swab. “Yes, I phoned her, because, she did not react on the emails.” Rapha was happy the tall defender took over the business. “She said, and this is a quote: ‘Call me again, when the peacock’s dead. Then I’ll return and take what’s mine.’” Marcelo stopped wincing. Irina had been kind of a last chance for them. “Where the fuck is Ricky?!?” The Frenshman was desperated. Pepe stopped his nurse-job and reached out for the young man’s hand. “Come, sit down for a moment. Tell me, did Cris ask for him again?” The boy’s voice broke and he couldn’t hide his tears any longer. “That’s the point. He stopped asking for him!” Marcelo jumped up and lef the room. It was time for a new plan and he had a slight idea, where their Brazilian Necromancer, who called himself a priest, might be.

It was his bad concious, that tortured David. He was not able to eat or sleep. If someone was to blame, it was him. He brought Zlatan to Spain, he caused Cristiano to contact Jude and Helena! David had known, how young the Portuguese was acording to Moles. Cristiano’s ‘imperfction’ was an open secret in the networks, but till this point, he seemed strong enough to fight everybody. Now they were waiting for him to die, David felt too guilty, it was unbearable. If someone was about to kick the bucket, it was him, and him alone. He needed to see Cristiano, he needed to talk, to tell him, he was sorry, to have his absolution, but he was not alowed to enter the room. Cristiano was not to be disturbed and Fábio was around, ready to keep everybody out. David could tell the defender was in love with the Mole, and he felt sorry for this guy, but he had to do it. He needed to get rid of Fábio... At least for ten minutes!

“Caroline? Is he with you, we...he needs him now!” “The pale brown haired angel opend the door for Marcelo. “He’s in his room and he won’t come out untill he’s finish. That’s what he said.” She sounded tired and ill. “Are you o.k., Do you need help, I can call for someone to support you... in your state you need help, don’t you?” A soft smile formed on the woman’s face. “Darling, I’m prenant not ill. And I’m fine, thank you. It’s just... he doesn’t rest or eat or leave this room, and I cannot go in there, you know...” Marcelo gulped. He had been in the black room before. All walls, the floor and the ceiling were covered with plates of shale, that made the room look like a spooky black hole. And it was no help, to know, why the playmaker had chosen this stone for his altar room: On the dark stone, it was hard to spot the blood stains! Slowly Marcelo made his way through the bright living room, crossed the corridor with the family-portraits and reached the hidden door. He had to force himself to open it with his shaking hands and stared at the sight. He had never expected Ricky to do THIS!

Ziszou excused himself, as he answered his mobile phone. It wasn’t his habit to phone during a meeting, but some strange feeling made him take the call. “David? I hope it’s important.” The Englishman replied with such a low voice, Zizou nearly inserted his phone into his ear. “You have to come to Cris, I... I know, what’s wrong! But we have to hurry, he’s close... just drop whatever you’re doing and run as fast as an old man like you...” The Frenchman hung up, mumbled a low excuse to Florentino and sprinted like he had not done for quite some time. He slowed down, when he entered the clinic of Ciudad Real Madrid. “What have you done with Fábio?” Carefully Zizou stepped over the knocked out Portuguese on the floor. “Let’s say, he nearly had an accident with some cleaning utensil... I discovered something important, Have a look! If you use some magic for it, you will find out, that Cris’s physical state is caused by a curse... I... She must have casted it...” “Don’t you think, he would have noticed... Well, he’s a Mole and he would never have missed this...” “I’m sure he was distracted, when they were fucking...” “David, please! No details! So, what do you think, I can do?” “Zizou, your a Druid, you are kind of good with your stuff...” “Kind of? Curses are no speciality of my profession. But your right, at least we should try, it might prevent a war!” “And save someone dear...”

Marcelo finally understood. Ricky had never dropped Cris or any of them. He had just tried to solve the problem with his methods and now he was finished with the preparations. “I... I bring you to Valdebebas, but you know, this is the weirdest thing you’ve ever done...” Ricky gasped as he opend the door of the sportscar. “...and you did a lot of strange stuff. For example, when you tried to heal Pepe from his, how did you call it? His burning anger! You killed a goose and made Pepe eat a ‘Red Savina’.” “Well, he had other things burning than his anger. Was I too slow? I was working night and day, but I’m not an expert on this.” The defender shook his head and pushed the car to it’s limit. When he had left, Pepe had been serious... He never was, if there was any hope left, so they had to get back as fast as possible. “You might lose your licence... Whoap, red light!” Marcelo ignored it. He had more to lose than his driver’s licence.

Sergio peeked through the gap. He had opened the door just far enough to get a view. Lena was sleeping in an armchair by the bed, her long legs crossed and curled underneath her relaxed body. The Sevillano was sure, she might need some physical therapy, when she woke up. Trying not to make any sound, he pushed foreward in slowmotion. A low, muffled mumbling made him stop and he couldn’t help, but grin. There he was, like sleeping beauty, waiting for him to wake her... him... her... Anyway, it was impossible to deside which gender the petite snowwhite on the bed actually belonged to. Sergio relaxed a little at the comfortable look on his cariño’s face, but as his eyes went down the silhouette, something irritating made him pause. There was an arm slung around Mesut’s curved waist. A brawny, tan arm right from behind. It took the Spaniard a moment to realise, it belonged to Sami, who was not only around, but getting close, too close. The defender felt jealousy raging up inside. They had to find a way for this. Mesut had asked them to get long, to be friends, but if they weren’t able to find a solution soon, he would probably kill this dragon! Sergio slowly moved back, shocked by his own thoughts. He hadn’t been laid for far too long, that was for sure. He was already thinking about murdering for sex...

Marcelo opened the door for Pepe, who carried an exploited looking Ricky. “So, how long haven’t you slept?” “Well, when was my funeral...? What the tissue do you care for that now...!” Neither Marcelo nor Pepe had any time to react on Ricky’s weird way of non-cursing, when they entered Cristiano’s room. Fábio was streched on the floor, a broken broom on his chest, David was twitching in convulsion next to the bed and Zizou lay by the Enlishman’s side eyes rolled, thick smoke rising from both of his ears. Marcelo rushed in, checking their pulses. “Wow, guess they are alive, but...” “That’s what happens, if you try to handle magic, you cannot controle. Let me down Pepe, please. I guess, it’s a similar problem I had, when I tried to use my spells on Cris, but he’s imune to me, you know Pepe, you had to be purified, before I could help you?” The heavy defender grunted as the Brazilian went on. “You cannot work on a Mole... Cris cannot be purified! I tried, but I ran out of chicken... Well, anyway. Now, let’s use a loop way... So YOU cannot be removed, because YOUu were originally designed for him, let’s seen, if YOU like a surrogate.” Pepe was tried to decide, what made him believe the playmaker had lost his mind: The fact he was talking to the spell or the little knitted doll, the Brazilian was waving over the mole. If he was honest, he didn’t care. This was their last hope to cure Cris, to prevent a war, to save them all. If Ricky had to behave even stranger than before... So, what!  
The Voodoo-Master, who used to call himself priest of life and death had started a spooky singsong and every now and than another ghostly voice seemed to join it. The noise grew so loud, the whole team ran to the room, except Álvaro, who was hiding under the sofa and Karim, who tried to calm the Puppy in vain, by hiding with him. Even Sami showed up, carrying a still snoring, but already yawning Mesut in his arms. The thought crossed Pepe’s mind, maybe this pandemonium was enough to wake the little German from his long rest or enough to wake a dead man. It was just the second they feared to become deaf, when all voices stopped abruptly. Ricky was kneeling down in front of his younger friend’s bed, white fluff covered the blanket, hanging out of the doll’s ripped open chest! But Cristiano was breathing easy now. He looked relaxed and there was a slight trace of a smile, showing he was resting and dreaming peacefully. “That’s it. Can someone get me into a bed, too? Please...” Ricky nearly fell asleep while speaking. He was satified with his work. At least he had found a way to get his methods working on Cristiano. He would have to make a new doll, just in case... He would have to talk to the Mole about his version of hell, when they had met between both worlds. He had no idea, Cristiano was so uncomfortable at this place... He would help him out, put it right. He had promised himself to save this boy, the moment he saw him, although he knew, it was a life’s work... “I’ll find a way to give him salvation...” the playmaker mumbled, when Pepe lifted him up and placed him on a bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was inspired by this one:  
> http://cr7-kaka.tumblr.com/post/12158605919/kakaandcaroline-get-on-the-fifa-12-scarf-claim  
> I'm a kind of expert for needlework and to my confusion he really looks like, he knows what to do...


	18. Intermedio inglés

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A funny start, a worried midfielder and a sad end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was feeling sorry for what I did to poor Nando... But when I started writing it turned out even worse! That's the risk, if you don't plan your storyline... I'm so sorry (again), but I promise (especially to my sister, who reads my trash as bedtime story), I'm going to find a way out of this... At least I hope, I will. This little beauty of smut served as inspiration. (It might not excuse, but it explains.):  
> http://footballkink.livejournal.com/1050.html?thread=1030682#t1030682
> 
> Please don't be too hard on my misspelling, maybe next time i'll have someone to correct it... And, of course, please comment!

„This is Sergio…“ Ricky didn’t get any further with his speach, the catcalls and shouts went too loud, as the first picture of his new presentation showed the defender in a ridiculous, saucy pose with the most stupid face, he had ever made. “Where... do you get these fotos of us...” Pepe had to stop in the middle of his sentence to catch breath. He was laughing so hard, his whole chest ached. The Brazilian playmaker waited patient for his team mates to calm down again. ”...Sergio is not only a loudmouth, he is also a Taurus.” “I get the slight impression, you don’t like me a lot...” The Sevillano faked a pout, but it was a sad try, cause he was still laughing himself to tears about that picture. “He IS a Taurus.” Ricky insisted. “That means, he can go out in flames, when he gets angry or excited or...” “AROUSED!” Marcelo screamed. Todays lesson was already a highlight of the day. “Be careful Mesut or you might end as toast...” Karim jostled the the little German gently with his elbow, but his younger friend was half asleep already, still suffering from his overfatigue. Zizou, Sami, Ricky and Cristiano had forced the kid to promise never to resurrect someone ever again. Telling him he could save a lot more lives staying alive, helped persuading him. At least he was walking around the clubhouse after all what happend, making all of his team mates yawn with him, driving Mourinho crazy.  
Sami didn’t laugh at all. He had thought about the Sergio-problem for quite some time, but could not find any solution except killing the defender, letting it look like an accident... He had to talk to Xabi about all this. The Spaniard was the only person, he trusted at this special point. Of course, Iker was their captain, but he seemed kind of biased, when it came to that freak of a Taurus. Still murdering a fellow player did not sound like an aspired achievement.  
”...Let’s say, he can hurt someone, indeed.” Ricky was back into his speach. “But, we all love this little weirdo, because he is cheering us up, whenever he can...Even if he drops something valuable.” The next picture was even worse than the first and had a similar effect. “Well, what does it mean to be a Taurus?” “Eating grass and ruminate it?” Álvaro guessed. “No,...” “Sleeping in a barn and giving milk twice a day?” The striker tried again, but this time he was interrupted by Sergio. “I’m a bull not a stupid milk-cow! But if you meant something else with giving milk...” If Mesut had not been asleep again, his face might have been the same color as beetroot. “...No, we don’t want to know that!” Ricky tried desperately to get back to his point. “Sergio has grown during the transformation... Stop that stupid grin Ramos!... He is stronger now and he can run at a medium speed for days, if he has enough to eat. AND I’m sure the coach will test this last ability in a very special training, if you interrupt me again!” Finally the Brazilian had them focussed. The only sound disturbing now, was the low snore, comming from Sami’s shoulder... Well, not exactly from Sami’s shoulder, but from a very tired, little German playmaker, who had found himself a comfortable position cuddled into the Dragon’s strong arms. “Now, we all asked ourself one question...” This was their favourite part, Ricky asking things none of them ever imagined before! “Will Sergio force Pepe into the sea?” There it was, he had done it again, and this time even Cristiano, still weak and pale after the curse nearly killed him, literally fell off his armchair laughing. Only Pepe rolled his eyes, lifting the Mole and gently placing him back onto the chair “What have I done to you?! I’m not a dumb unicorn...” After about five or six minutes, Ricky was able to answer his own question: “Of course not! Because water extinguishes the flames and Pepe would be safe, the moment they enter the sea.” He made a short break, for them to catch up, because the following sentence had to be spoken unanimously. “But we all love Sergio and we are so happy he is with us!”

Iker? Just a moment?” Xabi looked concerned, a rare thing to happen and it made the goalkeeper immediatly nervous. “Sure, here or do we need some privacy?” It was a lousy attempt to act, like he was cool. Xabi’s mouth pressed into a thin line, and his serious, dark eyes were freaking him out. The midfielder made a gesture to leave the squad and so they headed into a small office, resevered for such occasions. After the quiet redhead had closed the door, he looked at his captain as if he expacted another invitation, so Iker waved his hand and finally Xabi started. “It’s because of Nando.” “What?! I thought we got rid of him...” “I know, you never liked him that much, but still, he’s part of the national team, and you are the captain of it, so...” “I got it, Xabi, please get to the point.” “I tried to phone him two days ago, couldn’t reach him. So I tried his wife’s... and I got the ‘not available’-speach’. I know, you guys have never been friends, but he doesn’t deserve being thown out of Spain like this! At least, we should find out, if he’s o. k. I... I haven’t got any information, if he’s still alive...” “Xabi, PLEASE! Calm down!” Iker had no idea, the midfielder was able to lose the nerve. “We will take care of this. But this has to be done carefully, you know, politics! We cannot risk a provocation of the Commonwealth.” The goalkeeper felt goose bumps on his forearms. “We have to talk to Cris about this...” “But he is still too sick for politics and the coach has threatend everyone with severe punishment, if we disturb him with our, I quote him, ‘stupid idiot’s concerns’.” Iker sighed. “Xabi, as you said before, we don’t know, if Nando is still alive. This makes it kind of an emergency case.” The goalkeeper was sure their Mole was able to put Xabi back to a calm state of mind. He was mistaken.

***

Fernando blinked, He felt like a horse had run over him. Where was he, what did happen? He tried to lift his head, but couldn’t find the strengh to do. Panic started rising, filling his chest and speeding up his heartbeat. “So, you are finally awake!” The voice next to his ear was like ice. It took all energy he had to turn over. His heart stopped at the sight. “Well, I was ready to ignore you Spaniard, but with your temper and your talent to destroy, I am forced to act.” The Mole leaned over him, showing all his shark-teeth in an evil grin. “Fer, sweetheart. I am an aesthete... Do you know what this means?” The green eyed man didn’ t even wait for him to nod. “And I never waste resources. If you had not been such an angel faced eye-catcher, I would have had you killed already. But this time, THIS TIME! You just cannot run away to Madrid, just because your lover had dumped you for a younger one.” The striker started shaking as the Moles voice caused goose bumps on his forearms and his words were cutting like a knife. Memory took him on a journey:

He woke up in the middle of his living room... or what had been his living room. Weargus Day had caught most English teams on the wrong foot, without warning. The result was a high rate of deaths among the players and a high rate of traumatised survivors. He was alive, but he could feel every fucking bone in his body aching. He looked around in the complete chaos of destruction. A moment ago he had been talking to Olalla... something of no consequence about the TV progamme, the next thing he knew, he was lying on the floor, his entire furniture crashed around him. Nando sat up and rubbed his eyes. Something was dripping down on him... lifting his head, he found one of his dogs with a broken spine swinging on the ceiling lamp. The striker slipped backwards and then he saw her face. His wife was pinned under the knocked over sofa, her dead eyes wide in horror, one hand reaching out for a pile of scattered chairs. Fernando’s heart raced as he rushed to remove the wood, only to find Nora, head smashed under it. His head started turning and he repeated “Nononononono....” like a mantra. And then, the thing that made him finally throw out. From the corner of his eye he saw his little baby boy smashed on the wall, still sticking at about one and a half meters high. The world around him turned black and the next thing he remembered, he was sitting next to Steven Gerrard in the car.

“Are you listening at all, you stupid little whore!” Fernando winced and tried to focus on Jude again, but he was close to the edge and unable to follow the angry speech of the Mole.

Why in the world Steve? He hated that guy for what he had done to him. Yes, they had been friends and yes, they had had sex, but his move after Nando told him he was going to Chelsey was the cruelest thing he could have done... It had been one thing to get nearly the whole team to fuck him, but sending a video of this to Frank Lampard, telling him, that he was sent to make the Blues more relaxed and making them believe, the Spaniard was getting paid for this by the club was pure horror. Fernando didn’t have the slightest chance to get out of this situation and it took him month to get used to his strange position in the team and the treatments by the guys. At the beginning some of them had even tried to pay him for the fuck. He had never been humiliated like this before and it had been a nightmare hiding all that from his wife... Only the thought of her and the knowledge, that a soulmate was waiting for him in Spain kept him going, while the press and the fans punched on him, because he was not able to score. And now Steve had him back. Telling he had missed his sweet ass and he was about to fuck him all night and... Fernando had puked into the midfielder’s beloved sportscar, at least that filled him with pleasure afterwards. It must have been the shock, but the Spaniard had forgotten about his family for a while. Instead he started texting Sergio, calling the guy, but never getting any reply. He was afraid, the defender might have died during his transformation, so he summoned up all his courage and called Iker. He had never been friends with the goalkeeper, as Sergio’s best buddy, he thought the Sevillano deserved something better than Nando. But he informed the striker, Sergio was fine, but busy with something, he had to take care of. Very little time later that SOB sent him a short message telling him he dropped him. It was the first time Sergio had treated him like a whore and the pain was more than he could suffer. After one more night with Stevie he must have ran away, no idea how he escaped that psycho caveman. He didn’t remember how he got to Spain at all, but he remembered the pain it caused, finding his lover happily ever after with this... this... Well, he couldn’t find a word for that hybrid. In Sergio’s eyes this bdark haired snowwhite must have looked perfect, but for raging Nando the kid was a fish eyed slut. And even worse, he was imune to the destroying power the striker had sworn never to use again, but couldn’t stop himself, when he finally got the truth. Fernando had killed his entire family, but couldn’t even slap that bitch’s face.

“That’s the reason, why you have to leave to Iberia now!” “What!?” But Jude had already left the room and without any further explanation or any luggage Nando was back on a flight to Madrid. He had no idea what to do when he arrived. Of course, the Mole had kept his complete estate, because of the ‘trouble’ the Spaniard had caused. It was close to midnight, when he stranded at the airport, not even able to pay for a cab. He didn’t think about his next move, he just started walking, trying to keep his head up high, but something in his chest had started eating him from the inside. Someone would die about this and he didn’t care if it was Sergio, this bitch or himself.  
He arrived at the club house in Majadahonda as the first lights of dawn were crawling lazy over the skyline, but something made him hesitate, wake up from his numbness. Something was wrong at this place he had known so well... The windows were broken and the doors were unlocked. No one was around this ruin. Slowly and with a creepy feeling climbing up his back, Nando entered the place, nobody was there, to recognise, to ask what he wanted. (He wouldn’t have been able to answer this anyway.) It was silent as a grave and then he saw the list. It was still fixed to the wall next to the entry. He knew, that the clubs had different emergency plans, in case the transformation caused a civil war. Athletico’s was imaginably simple. ‘Leave your name and adress, so we can contact you, to help you.” There were no names on the paper and walking around this ghostly place brought the intuition, there couldn’t be anyone here, because they had not survived! This place had been depredated, never to be reposessed by Athletico, because there was no one left! Fernando’s way had brought him to the gym and a skipping rope looped on the floor cought his attention. In fact, he could not take his eyes off it. There was nothing left for him to do. Chelsea (I’m talking about FC, of course) was no longer existing and he would never go back to Liverpool, because he couldn’t stand Stevie’s cruelness. And Spain? Xabi had done nothing to help him and none of the guys had cared, how he felt or if he needed something. He had been dropped and sent away like a parcel without batting an eye. He was no longer welcome at Iberia, a place he once called home, now ruled by a cold blooded Portuguese Mole. And he hated that swellhead from the bottom of his heart, because he had treated him like a subject, he just had not cared. There was nothing else for him to do, and the thoughts started to turn like an endless carousel ride in his head. Slowly he tried to make a knot into the rope. It looked simple in the movies, but he had never been good with these thigs, happy he could tie his shoes himself and now shaking heavily didn’t make it easier. But he managed to get a good knot and find a place to hang it in the locker room, a left over box was all he needed for his pathetic plan. Fernando finally climed up and put the rope around his neck. His last thoughts before he kicked the box away: “I hope it will be painful and take a while. I don’t deserve it fast and easy.” But he didn’t feel like faling. It was more like he was lifted.


	19. Masquerade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an office, on a dancefloor and before the court

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is! I hope, I found most of my bad writing, but again, it's the middle of the night... Please tell me what you think of it! I tried to react on some transfers, but I guess, it's a poor attempt, but it would be a nice explanation for Mourinho's unprofessional (but very entertaining) behaviour. Retaliation is no good style!

„You have to relax, Cris. I don’t want to knit another doll right now.” It was a fact, Ricky was the only person around, who was allowed to speak that frankly to the Mole. “I’m happy you liked my lesson this morning, but you should be able to come down without me, making a fool out of Sergio... Well, some more than he does himself.” Cristiano sighed and refused to answer. He stared at his espresso. “Maybe we should find you a new girlfried...” Too much! Cristiano spat out his coffee. “Ricky, please! At least leave me my favourite ritual.” From out of nowhere Fábio rushed in and exchanged the spoiled drink  for a fresh hot espresso without a word, leaving the scenery as fast, as he had appeared. A small smile flew over the Mole’s face. Marcelo had joked, Cris’s final motivation to free South Amarica, was the Brazilian coffee, he insisted to have in privacy every morning about the same time and, if he was honest, he really liked this special type. “Maybe you should find someone to, uhmmm...” Ricky blushed and Cristiano used his chance to reply. “For a guy, who will be farther of four soon, you’re really kind of a prude.” He regreted the sentence immediately. The Brazilian shook his head. Whenever they came to that point, there was that unspoken problem between them. The playmaker knew, Moles never fell in love, but they were able to grow a certain weakness for one person only once in their lives. Cristiano had never said a word about it, but the complete crew was well aware of their relationship, by the caring and sad way the Mole kept looking at the playmaker, knowing, that he could never have him.  
A knock on the door interrupted their awkward silence. Rafa entered, his head down, his shoulders pulled up. “What is it?” Cristiano made sure, he sounded as friendly as possible. The Frenshman was still shocked about the shrunken head, that arrived from England this morning, the last gift from Alex, who had pronounced his retirement a few weeks ago. Marcelo had offered to put Helena’s remain into synthetic resin, so it would make a fine paper weight. But Rafa wasn’t as tough as Pepe or Marcelo, as hard-nosed as Fábio or as calm and steady as Ricky. The young computer-nerd had to be treated with care and so Cristiano chose his tone with caution. “Yes? What’s up?” He added an extra smile, not too wide, so the young man didn’t get the sight of the Mole’s sharp and pointed molar teeth. “I... I think there was a phonecall from England?” The defender’s voice was so low, they hardly got his words. Ricky touched Cristiano’s knees and replied, before the Mole could explode. “Thank you, Rafa. But what do you mean with ‘You think...’ ?” The boy nearly made a knot into his fingers. “I... I didn’t get the words properly?” The Brazilian nodded and released the Frenshman, who hurried to escape from this room. “He THINKS...” “He’s not a trained secretary.” “BUT he THINKS...” “You know, English is not his favourite language...” “But HE THINKS...!”  
Another knock on the door, this time less low and reserved, stopped Cristiano from losing his countenance completely. Iker didn’t even wait for an answer as he pulled Xabi along side into the room. “It’s about Nando.” The goalkeeper started, but all he got for his opening were puzzled looks. “Xabi was a bit worried, after you sent him back to England and...” “Wait a second, Iker, you told me, he was trouble and we were better off without him and he should be kept away from Sergio...” “I’m sorry.” The silent red head dared to interrupt “But if you had asked me instead... Well, Nando is trouble, yes. AND in combination with Sergio... They aren’t good for each other. That’s right, too. But he’s not a cold blooded villain. He never had it easy and he’s used to fight. Just imagine, you get dropped by short message...” Cristiano made a vague movement with his hand and the midfielder went on. “You know, I never asked for something. I supported you with ahtaever you wanted and I will in future. If you call us to a war against Italy, Russia or the Commonwealth... I will follow. But I want to know, if Nando’s well...” “I’m going to take care of him. I promise.” Cristiano knew, Xabi was right. The midfielder had never even asked questions, but was loyal and ready to do, whatever was necessary. “I will have to call with my English diplomat anyway.” Iker seemed surprised about the Mole’s prompt reaction, but both Spaniards were satisfied with the offer so far and they left the room.  
Ricky leaned over to the Portuguese, close enough to whisper. “Please be careful. You know, I have sworn to save you and you don’t want me, to do something weird for this task again.” He earned a shy smile, the Mole gave much too rarely and couldn’t resist to stroke the carefully styled hair just to mess it up a little.  
”IKER!” Karim ran across the corridor. “There was somebody seen entering Atlético’s clubhouse. AND the residents insist, they recognised that freak of a striker, the one who threatened to eat Sergio alive...” Xabi and Iker looked at each other. This was not o.k. If Nando was back in Spain, he might be planning something against Sergio or Mesut. They met with Sami and Marcelo at the parking lot to drive over as fast as possible.

My dear reader, you might ask now, why Karim knew about a person walking into another club’s place. Let me explain: During the transformation a lot of people died and after a while, it was obvious, that the big competitor in Madrid had been erased. But if there was still a chance of helping any survivors, Iker had insisted to pay the neighbours for information. So they would be able to pick up, whoever was there... Florentino had seen it different, of course. Maybe a surviving footballer without a club was a cheap new player... But the reasons didn’t change the result. And if there were news to be heard and told, Karim was first in line!

At the left place the group parted into two, making their ways carefully. It was Marcelo, who saw the striker first, standing on an old box, a rope around his neck, ready to jump, but as a Dragon, Sami had fine relexes and he was tall enough, to lift the slender Spaniard, until the Brazilian defender had climbed on the box to cut the rope. They caried the fainted, blonde man back to the car and Sami swore, he was light as a fearther. Later at Valdebebas, where they checked the stricker carefully, they found his weight reduced to less than ten kilogramm, but non of them had any experience with Furies. Florentino turned to Iker with a smile. “At least this light, he won’t have any troubles with his knees. A good day for us, now we have Spain’s number 9 for free...” Iker shook his head. He would never understand how anyone could think about money in such a situation. An hour ago the striker had tried to commit suicide, he was far away from being able to stand the pressure of professional football. “I’ll phone Cris to tell him our ‘happy’ news.”

Cristiano nearly dropped his mobile. He had most of the information from Alex, who, of course, was not amused being called after his retirement... The way his team mates had found the Fury formed a knot in the Moles stomach, for a reason he didn’t see, yet. It took Ricky about five minutes to get the younger man to talk to him. “He killed his family!” “What?!” “Alex said, he believes it was accidentially... But he killed them!” “How?” The Brazilian was already thinking about, how to deal with someone, who has lost everything. “And he tried to hang himself at Majadahonda...” “Oooh, the poor thing...” “RICKY! Jude threw him out of England, because he thought, he was a ticking timebomb. What are we supposed to do with someone, who can murder by rage?!” The playmaker stared back at the Mole.”Let’s start with a hug, then we can listen to him and try to understand and in the end we might be able to save him... Don’t you dare to interrupt me now! He’s not a monster, I’m sure he’s just angry and sad and desperated and horrified and...” Cristiano sighed. He knew, he had already given in. How could he argue with this do-gooder and deep down he had to admit, he felt sorry for the Spaniard, too ... (Thanks to Mesut and his ability to restore the Mole’s soul.)

“Sami, don’t be a cow!” Lena pouted “You cannot hide him forever and your going to be around all the time. Let’s face it, it’s a costume party, I’m going to disguise him, no one will know it’s him!” “Pleeeeease, Samiiiii! I want to go!” The tall midfielder hated, when his hoard and his fiancée allied again. “You will stay close by my side?” Maybe letting them go dancing would end up the rainy weather, they had all day... But he had never expected their chosen maquerade. He himself was dressed in a long, black, hooded cowl and black gloves. It was a good thing he wouldn’t have to be painted by Lena to be irrecognisable. His Girl was waering a yellow and black striped jumpsuit with wings and was so weirdly styled, even her sister would have needed a third or fourth glance to be sure it was her, but Mesut... Mesut! Sami gasped “Are you completely out of... What do you think your doing?!” The ‘girls’ giggled as they stood in front of the Dragon holding hands and putting their heads together untill the playmaker found the words for an answer. “You said, it should be an unexpected costume. Well, you know me very well and you couldn’t foresee it.” One for Mesut and Lena...

“Is he going to stay with us, Iiiiiker? We don’t need another striker!” Karim rubbed his head against the goalkeeper and purred as loud as he could. “Here Kittykittykitty!” The low sound of rustling paper made the Frenshman nearly mad and the piece of newspaper crumpled into a ball, that was thrown past the corridor set a sudden end to their conversation. Iker couldn’t hide a smile, when a familiar face apeared in the door frame. Only one person had the nerve to get rid of their team mate like this. “We need to talk!” Sergio grinned, but there was a strange shadow of insecurity around his eyes, which made the goalkeeper frown. “What is it?” “Two things. Can you tell Flo, it’s not a good thing, to have Nando here with me?” “Well, for whom of you both?” “Come on, he tried to eat me alive and he scared Mesut and...” “You told everybody, you fucked him and praised his qualities in bed. I would flay you for that.” The Sevillano shook his head. “But it would be a lie, if I said it about you! We never fucked... The second thing, which bothers me much more, I have forgotten something important today.” Iker hesitated. He waited for the defender to go on, but he just didn’t. “What have you foregotten?” “If I’d remembered, I wouldn’t have forgotten...” “Sergio, that’s weird!” “Look, all I wanted to ask, can you imagine, what my sick brain is missing today.” The goalkeeper stared at the Taurus for a long moment, before he bursted into laughter. “You are one of a kind! Of course I don’t know, what ‘your sick brain’ had made up for today! You said, you’ll be going out tonight. Was it that?” “No, but now you say it. Want to join?” “No, you know, I hate costume parties... People behave, like they won’t be recognised.” “But that’s the fun part! No stalkers or autograph hunters tonight. Just a day off.” “What about your boyfriend, are you not going with Mesut?” The Sevillano sighed and his head sank. The wide smile, Sergio’s trademark, had disappeared completely. “Sami won’t let me. He’s behaving like a cow again and I promised Mesut, not to do something stupid...” “And your planning to stick to this?” Iker was surprised. “I asked Xabi for help, he seems to be the only one, who understands that T-Rex. He said, I should let him do, what must be done. By the way, heard the newest gossip from Kitty Karim?” “What do you mean?” “Some will leave us...” Iker had talked to Perez and he had talked to Cristiano, but it was always a big mystery, how the Frenshmen got his information. ”It’s because of the coach. He’s heading for England... Oh, you knew it before and did not tell me?!” The disapointment was plain on the defender’s face. “At least, there is one plus for being your captain... Don’t pout! Truth is, since Feguson’s retirement Cris needs a new diplomat in the U. K., who would be better than Mou?” “Yeah, I see that, but how does he explain in public, most of the people aren’t on the inside of Mole’s politics and I guess, it is supposed to stay like that. Imagine people find out about Spain being ruled by a Portuguese....” Iker scratched the back of his head and thought, before he replied. “Never mind, the coach will find his way of proving, he’s been arguing with all of us and we’re nothing but a stupid bunch of idiots, who are unable to accept criticism. But now that we’re talking...” He was not sure, if it was the right thing to tell the defender now, but he would not risk, Sergio getting the information from Karim or someone else. “...Pipita. He had asked to leave, too.” “That’s no surprise.” “What?!” “Come on, he is missing Ángel too much. And everything around this place reminds Gonzo of him. Does make sense to me, he wants to get his head clean at a new place.” It had always been hard to surprise the Sevillano.

David stared at his mobile. He didn’t remember giving his number to Steven Gerrard, but there it was, a message with a file attached. The Englishman was too curious to leave it and was caught flat-footed as a video with explicit content started... He gulped and felt himself hardening immediatly. So their newest striker was a professional... This hardcore porn left no doubt and David knew exactly what to do with that information.

Karim was dirty to his bones, after he had chased an agressive piece of newspaper down to the cellar and executed it there into shred. He thought a second time about the new-striker-problem. Pipita would be gone soon. What a pitty! Now that they found a comfortable way of... coexisting. The Frenshman took his mobile out of the pocket and typed T-O-R-R-E-S. Quickly he flipped through the photos of the Spaniard. Well, he wasn’t ugly. And Sergio had praised him highly. But the defender was dating Bambi at the moment... Not to be missunderstood, Karim loved Mesut. As a friend, as a little brother, maybe as a sister, but the playmaker looked like he just escaped from Sesame Street. How could anybody think about sex with a fucking Disney character? Except, Sergio was a paedophiliac weirdo... Karim shook of the thought. Nando wasn’t Mesut and maybe he could solve the problem the same way, he had done with Álvaro and Pipita. He grinned, who could resist a purring kitten? But as he passed a mirror, he hesitated. First a shower, than the plan!

Cristiano had studied his possibilities, he had contacted his old mates in England for more information and he had thought about all he got from them. Maybe Ricky was right (again). With a sigh he left his office and turned to Rafa. “Why not taking the evening off? Save the files and have the night off.” The Frenshman hesitated for a moment, but did as he was told. He always did. “Have you seen Marcelo and Pepe?” The Portuguese held him back for a moment. “I have a job for them to be done.”

Sergio had no idea, if it was the loud music, the strange mood, he was into, the beer or the fact, that he had not been laid for far too long. He caught himself again and again, admiring a dark haired beauty in a much too short, red dress. But what could he do? After all, he was just a man and this girl really got him. His eyes wandered over her long black hair, her slender shoulders and her pale arms, down her perfect ass and then he stared at these long legs. Most footballers had a fetish of legs and feet (except Cristiano, who might add hairstyle to it), but Sergio was sure, he had never seen a female with such wonderful legs, ending in small black ballerina shoes. The girl was dancing with a freaky bee, and the way both women moved, didn’t help the defender to calm down at all. He had to take a look at her face. Slowly Sergio moved across the dancefloor, just to find the upper half hidden under a black velvet mask with dark feathers. She was bloody perfect! A sudden move next to the girls cought his attention, he had not been the only guy noticing! Ready to rescue that little princess, he pushed foreward, carefully waiting, not to rush in. But the girls didn’t look happy about the Gorilla costume, that started laying his hands on the white skin. The bee turned her head searching to the bar, but there was no need for waiting. “Hands off!” and a careful poke were enough. Even in his idiotic cow costume, the Sevillano was quite an impressing creature. But there was the sudden insight that made him show his widest telltale smile. There he was standing, in the middle of Madrid’s hottest club grinning stupidly at the dearest person, he could imagine. In a strange way, it was no surprise for Lena, when her shy friend reached out and pulled a cow close to a frensh kiss, like it was getting up and brushing your teeth in the morning. The blonde girl looked around, searching for her fiancé. Where was Sami?

He was sitting at the bar, next to a halequin, he just had recognised as a friend, who needed help, because his wife had filed for divorce. Sami had no idea Xavi had waited with this bomb for that special moment, when Álvaro in a gorilla-costume started dancing with...well,what supposed to be Mesut. At least his misery would do good in one point. The silent red head knew one thing for sure. Sergio was in love, and he needed support, because if Sami held on to his behaviour, there would be murderer. And he didn’t even trust the small playmaker, who had been looking painfully at the Sevillano, everytime the Dragon was not watching. This triangle needed a push and he had the key in his hand. Lena’s request for help, was the last thing, he had needed to make his decision. It was him to act and now was the moment.

Nando looked out on the dying lights of the city, he once loved so much. He had survived again. The whole evening he had been annoyed by an insane Brazilian Necromancer, who tried to shrive him in vain, but the Spaniard had stopped believing in anything. Still, his head was working. He was alive, and he might lose his mind completely, if he didn’t find a reason for it. He needed a task, a plan... Revenge! The first word, that came to his mind. He could not defeat that fish-eyed German, who... which protected Sergio. Even the thought of the name made his stomach ache, like a fist closed around it and he retched. But there was this Mole here, who had sent him back. Thown him away like a piece of shit. Anger rose inside his chest and it made him feel a whole lot better. He would find out the identity of Iberia’s master and then, he would kill him! He stared at the moonless sky and winced, when the light inside and outside flickered and went out suddenly. He tried to calm down. Just a power blackout, but he felt eyes resting on his back and a firm hand touching the back of his neck...

Sergio had troubles finding the hole for his key, he did not drink too much alcohol, but the slender black haired beauty, he halfway carried, while kissing her wildly combined with searching for the right key, was a good explanation for his clumsiness. When they finally entered the apartment, Mesut had entwinded his long legs around the defender’s hips and there was only one thought on their minds. Tonight...NOW! Sergio had managed to get his hands under the playmaker’s short dress, he even had opened the zipper, without destroying the fabric (the fish-net stockings didn’t share the same luck), when the midfielder suddenly froze, his eyes wide in horror, staring at something behind Sergio’s back. There was no need for the defender to turn around. He felt his heart sink and the blood rush to his head, when a voice behind him ringed in his ears. “So here we have the reason, why my Cuqui forgot his mother’s birthday...!”


	20. What you deserve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An early wake-up call, a tough examination and a stressed Mole Or A drunken defender (telling the truth), a floral gift and some memory gaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG! 20! I'm sorry, it took so long to update, but I had too many ideas for this chapter and it blocked me completely. Please tell me, what you think about it and ignore the misspelling ;-)

Iker woke up to the sound of the doorbell. “Let it be importent!” He gnashed his teeth and opened, just to find a completely hysterical Sergio dressed in a cow costume, shivering, because he did not even wear a jacket in this cold, moon- and starless night. Iker stared for a moment at the defender, before he pulled the guy into the warmth of his vestibule. The Sevillano was in tears. “She threw me out! I... I didn’t want to leave him with her, but she threw me out!” He didn’t get any further, his voice broke and the words were cut by a crying fit. The goal keeper sighed, which had become a bad habbit, since he was the capain of Real Madrid. “Want some tea or coffee?” There was no use in asking any questions more complex. This would take some time, but Ricky had been right the other morning: He loved that freaky weirdo and even if he woke him in the middle of every night, he would take care of his mate. Sergio would do the same thing for him!

“Can you cook?” “Yes, Ma’am.” “Healthy food?” “Yes, Ma’am. Beef and vegetable, chicken, eggs and rice, fish, salad and potatoes and soulfood.” “Soulfood?” “Cake and cookies, Ma’am.” “Can you do the housework” “I can wash and clean, Ma’am.” “How does this sound to you: A nice house, a little garden, a small dog and a some children?” “Well, what about a nice mansion, a large garden, a huge dog and a big bunch of children, Ma’am?” The woman seemed a little surprised, normally her son’s choices feared her. This little snowwhite was all confident. Maybe the girl was strong enought for her youngest... She was satisfied with this reply and ready for her final strike: “Have you ever forgotten your mother’s birthday?” “I don’t have a mother anymore, but I miss her a lot.” Paqui stared at the young girl in front of her and suddenly her features softened. “Oooh! My dear, little child, I’m so sorry. What happend?” The huge eyes slowly filled with tears. “My father forbit any contact to my family after the transformation. They say, I don’t fit in anymore... I guess, I never did, but...” The Spaniard did the only thing, that felt right to her. She reached out, pulled the slender creature into her arms and cuddled her lovingly. “You shall have a family. Know what? Come and visit me in Sevilla as soon and as often as you can. I’ll teach you all of my secret recepies. I grow oranges there. You’ll love them. And we do have horses, do you ride... No? But you can learn. We have such beautiful horses! Please stop crying!” And like Florentino Perez, José Mourinho and Zinédine Zidan before, she felt so much with the German, that she couldn’t hold back her own tears.

“What do you mean, he has left with a cow?!!!” Sami was steaming. He would have been burning, but the little raincloud over his head, cause by the harsh words against his fiancée, erased the flames. A heavy hand dropped on the Dragon’s shoulder. “Do you trust me?” “He’s so small and helpless, you know, how naive he is...” “DO YOU TRUST ME!” It wasn’t even a question. Sami looked into the dark eyes of his fellow midfielder. There was no need to think. “Of course, I trust you. But...” “Leave it be!” “What?” “Mesut will be fine. Don’t you see, the more you coop him in, the more he missesss freedom. Give him some space, some air to breath. Don’t you think, it’s enough, I made this mistakesss? If I had listened, looked closer...” The Spaniard shook his head. “Believe me, Sergio lovsss him more than hissss live, his trophiesss or the game! He would offer all this, just to make our darling happy. And Mesut lovesssergio back. With all his heart. Haven’t you ssseen, how sad he looked at him? Are you blind? If you really love your hoard, use a loooong leash. He will come back to you, habby and cuddly asss ever.” Lena and Sami stared both at Xabi, who had obviously problems in standing straight and talking clearly. The blond woman looked carefully at the Spaniard, before she dared to ask a question, she already knew the right answer. “Are you drunk?”

The whole district turned dark at one go. And there was no moon in this night, to fill the streets outside Fernando’s window with at least a little light. No sound told the striker, he was not alone in his room any more, it was nothing but his instincts, a feeling, that someone entered in silence. Old memories caught him like hounds around a deer. ‘So it’s my old me, the way I always behave, the way it always turns out to be.’ He thought about all the things that fractured his pride, that took away his dignity cullet by cullet. He tried to remember the young man, who headed for a new country, curious and adventurous, but couldn’t find him under all the shit, that broke him over the years. He closed his eyes, in the darkness of the room, it was no use to look at the new ‘punter’... But something was different. The firm hands, that touched his shoulder blades didn’t push or hustle him and the warm smell of an unknowen fragrance made him feel dizzy in a comfortable way. He was gently lifted and placed on the bed nearby and when he was ready for anything, but nothing happened! Nothing, but a gentle touch of his hair, a slow and careful stroke over his legs and a very intensive, massage of his feet, that made him automatically relax. He didn’t hear the person come or leave, for he just fell asleep. When he woke up to the first lights of day, he still smellt the light remains of that strange parfume and something, that was certainly the unique smell of his visitor – a combination of musk, cinnamon and a tiny bit of caramel. He blinked and breathed in again, tried to save that scent to recall it later, when his eyes fell on the other side of the bed. There was something left on the pillow next to him: An exotic, big, white flower.

“YOU FORGOT HER BIRTHDAY?!!!” Iker literally jumped off his chair while he screamed at Sergio’s face. “Yep!” The defender took another sip of coffee. “And now the Spanish inquisition is interrogating Mesut?” “Doubble-yep!” Iker yawned. The day was just about to start and he was already tired like somebody had woken him up right in the middle of the night... Wait a second... Well, he was tired, because his friend had ringed him out off his bed at four o’clock in the morning! “She won’t kill him?” Iker supported the Taurus with nearly everything, no matter how crazy it sounded... or turned out to be, if he took the time to think about it, but Sergio’s mother was undefeatable. So all that was left to do, was trying to calm the guy.“What am I supposed to do?” Still, the younger man was to stressed to think for himself. “Go home! Wait, I’ll take you there. I’m sure, they are already asleep. And on our way, we’ll get a nice gift for your mother.” “What would I do, if I hadn’t got you?” “Wake Xabi?”

“Good morning! Have you slept well?” Ricky opened the door slowly, to make sure he didn’t surprise the new striker. He found the guy sitting on his bed, knees pulled up to the chin, studying a flower in his hands, a dreamy look in his eyes. “We’re going to a spa and I want to ask you, to accopany us.” Nando looked up from the big blossom in his palms. “I... I don’t have anything... I cannot...” “Never mind, I’ve never paid for this either! Our Mole calls himself an aesthete and he can hardly endure unpleasant views... Don’t take it as an offend!” There it was! The Mole! Maybe he would find out the identity soon... Fernando felt a familiar energy flooding his veins. He had no pride left, so why not using the bastards money?!  
Downstairs they met with Marcelo, who greeted with a wide smile, Rafa, who murmered a shy hallo and Fábio, who didn’t even try to hide his aversion to Fernando. Well, what a merry party! But after a massage, a new haircut (best part) and a manicure, the Spaniard felt a lot more comfortable. He even remembered the location from his time at Atlético. He was close to get a slight feeling of himself before he left, but back to the club house Xabi waited for him and by the look on his face, Nando could tell two things for true: The midfielder was suffering of a bad hangover and there was something uncomfrotable ahead.

Sergio was not able to open his own door! He was too afriad of the things they might find inside, but Iker insisted in entering. “It’s your bloody apartment! Don’t behave like a baby!” But if he was honest, the goel keeper had an uneasy feeling about this, too. The strong smell of food and the sound of laughter suprised both. “Hey, want some breakfast? I made pancakes and tía showed me how to make a moje de naranja. Wanna try?” although two people had obviously rotated in the kittchen, the room was spic and span! A big plate overfull with golden pancakes and a huge bowl with the sauce proofed, Mesut and Paqui were alarmingly much too well able to cooperate. Now, without the clipped in extensions and in one of Sergio’s shirts instead of the very short red dress, the playmaker looked more like himself again... But for Sergio it didn’t matter. He was so happy, he was speachless (very rare for the defender). He sat down grabbed a pancake and cried during his whole meal, because this was too good to be true.

“We have to talk.” The low voice of the midfielder and his determined tune made it clear, there was no way to refuse. Xabi had always been nice to Fernando, even treated him with respect, as far as the striker was able to define respect... He didn’t remember, how he got that broken. “You know, I offered you help, after you left Liverpool?” Nando nodded, but avoided to look into these still dark eyes. “David showed me this.” Xabi placed a mobile right in front of the younger man, who froze immediatly. His jar dropped open and he felt a million tons on his chest, pressing the air out of his lungs. “Don’t be afraid, he didn’t give it away, but came directly to me this afternoon. What have you done to make him that angry with you?” Still the striker had no strengh to speak, he fought for each breath. “Steven told me he fucked you once, but what happend after you told him about the transfere?” The concrete question made it easier to reply. “He said, I wasn’t free to go and that I was all his and...” Nado gulped. “...he will make sure, I would get, what I deserve, wherever I go.” The striker with the china doll face had started shivering uncontrolably during his words. It was the first time, he spoke about his free fall. He had been using his body for an advantage before, but never against his will. And now Xabi killed the striker’s last resistance with one question. “How did you hide it from your wife?” Tons of memories flashed through Fernando’s brain. A thousand times he had behaved like a fucking diva, until Olalla had thrown him out of their bed room and he was able to spend the night on the sofa, hiding the bruises and marks. He hated himself for this. “Hey?” Xabi had gotten closer, one of his heavy hands resting now on the long back of the striker, who tried desperatly to keep his composure. He remembred his first sex, and the shock afterward, when the guy left him some money on the bedside table, the day he ‘convinced’ the right people, he was going to be the next topscorer... One by one his memory gaps slowly closed revealing an accelerating spiral, that sent him deeper downward, than he ever imagined. But the moment he thought, he might get a chance to take a look at his time before, something hard hit his forehead...

“You survived the Spanish inquisition and you say you like her?” Karim’s eyes widened. “I don’t believe you! Always shy and afraid of people... But if you meet someone really creepy you like her?!” Álvaro shokk his head at the playmaker. “How did you even get what she said, her dialect is even worse than Sergio’s?” Mesut shrugged. “It was quite easy. Her eyes, her face and her words, her whole body was telling the same things. ‘I’m asking you something, because I love my son and he’s not easy, so I want to make sure, you’ll get along with him, because I want you to be happy, too.’” Karim’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “I’m sure she didn’t say this in words... But if you satisfied her, we can start looking for a wedding dress.” The Dog giggled at the last sentence. “yeeeh, you will look soooo pretty in white!” A strong hand slaped the back of Álvaro’s head. “Are you o.k.?” Sami lifted Mesut from the sofa and placed him against his shoulder, noticing the bight smile on the playmaker’s face. “Hmmm, I think I planned our next holyday. Do you think Lena loves horses?”

”Why didn’t you catch him?” Ricky carefully examined Fernando’s face and continued talking to Xabi. “It was obvious, he was about to faint.” The Basque shook his head and started massaging his temples. He looked like his head had just hit the table himself. “Maybe... maybe my reflexes aren’t at their best today.” He mumbled back tiredly. “The nose is fine... I guess, he’ll survive.” “Thank you, Doctor Kaká!” The voice from behind was deep and a little stresses. “Oh Cris, calm down. You know, you have to!” The Portuguese had just entered the room followed by the whole gang and he was determined to ignore Ricky’s last comment. “So, Xabi? What do you think about our new arrival?” “I’m sorry to say, I know, I asked you to get him here, but he’s a timebomb. And he’s ticking fast.” “Shall I take care of the problem?” Pepe sank down next to Ricky staring at the fainted Spaniard’s pale neck. “I might get used to our little arrangement yesterday, but I could break this with one hand... Even Fáb could do it.” “Yes, I could, and you know, I would, if you asked me to.” The blond defender beamed at the Mole, who still rested his eyes on the limb body in front of them. He waited for someone else to speak, and he was not disappointed, as always. “He is sad and lost. Let’s face the fact, that he might... maybe, possibly be a little dangerous. BUT I don’t think, we should give up already. I mean, what do we know about him? What...” The Brazilian playmaker was interrupted by Fábio. “He was born in Madrid. His parents and especially his grandparents were very rich. Not just a little, I’m talking about the real jackpot. He was sent to a privat school, I guess, the most expensive in whole Iberia and he was a much too boring A-level pupil...” “That’s strange.” Cristiano stopped the younger defender for a moment. “How did he get from this to becoming a whore?” He turned to Xabi with his question, but the Spaniard just shrugged. “Well, I don’t know him being different. The first time I saw him, he was on his knees in front of Iñaki Sáez, and the coach had his pants down. A week later Nando made his debut...” “Not really?!” Marcelo leaned over the back of Cristiano’s armchair, nearly falling over his master. “If you want to hear it, I can go on a little bit!” Fábio pouted. He hated being interrupted, even if it had been Cristiano. But the cold look from the Mole left no space for misinterpretation or misbehaviour, so Fábio swallowed his anger and went on. “After the death of his father, his mother seemed to have some serious trouble with tax investigation. She moved back to her parents, but this guy over here...” he took the chance to point stagily at the still fainted striker in Ricky’s arms. “... this guy just disappeared for a year. I guess, he knew how to earn his money...” Ricky stared at Fábio. “When was that?” “In 1998...” It had never been the necromancer’s habit to cut people off, but this time he nearly looked angry... for his standarts. “Oh, what the doorknob! Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? He was no more than 14 years old! Cris, we cannot drop him now! This one needs to be rescued!” The Mole did not answer back, he was in thoughts, staring at the Spaniard’s pale neck, the long back and these endless legs.  
Half an hour later, the Spanish striker was under Ricky’s careful hands brought to the internal clinic and Cristiano was back in his office, confronted with all the stuff, he hated the most. “But his fur was all over my ice cream...” “It’s a lie! It wasn’t my fur, it was his own!” A slight headache started pulsing in the Mole’s temples and he knew, by the end of the day it would be a grown migraine. “Álvaro! Karim! If you don’t stop this game now, I will probably barbecue both of you. Why don’t you torture Iker with your kindergarden-behaviour?” “But Iker said, we shall ask you, because he was too tired to help us out, because Sergio woke him in the middle of the night, because the Spanish inquisition is back, because this idiot forgot her birthday...” The Frenshman pouted. Pepe rushed into the room, called by a push on the hidden button under the Mole’s desk. He was surprised only to find Cris with the Kitten and the Puppy. The buttons under the desk were exclusively for emergencies “Bring them out of here. And PLEASE tell Fábio to find out, how long we have to wait for the new coach.” Pepe stared at his master. Cristiano was in a horrible mood, but more frightening, his face was grey and there were dark rings under his eyes. The defender didn’t wait for another order, he walked around the table and pushed the red button under the top.

“She liked you?!” Lena was excited. “And she invited us to Sevilla?!” “As soon as we have some days off. She was really nice. I don’t understand, why everyone seems afraid of her. She’s laughing all the time with her eyes.” The blond woman grinned at her best friend. “Know what? It doesn’t matter, what people think about her. Just listen to your instincts, you know, you are good with it, except... But she’s not a Demon or a Devil. She must have been falling for you. I told you, the red dress suits you best! All of my friends and collegues envy your legs...” “Hrrmph!” Sami took great care in not surprising his two ‘girls’ during their private conversation, but he had something, he needed to do right now! “Hey sweethearts!” Both beauties shared glances. That was a bit too loud and sunny. “I... I thought about this over and over again and Xabi adviced me, after he slept off his hangover. So I searched for the right one and I finally got it. Don’t worry, I will take care of everything. It won’t trouble you. So? What do you think about the idea?” Mesut and Lena stared at the Dragon for about a full minute, bursting into laughter afterwards. “What the hell, are you suggesting? Shall we mure Mesut? If Xabi told you this, he’s still drunk...” “I don’t want to be locked away...” “Shsh! He’s still very little and you might scare him.” Now, the tall man with the broad shoulders had their undivided attention, but what came into the room right now, was ready to steal everyone’s show in an instant!


	21. Fire and ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A blockade, a sad try and two fighting cows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, it took me so long to update... And I'm sorry, I cannot give you a better quality, but I've been writing under the influence of very strong painkillers and a fading narcosis, I had few days ago... So please don't look to carefully on my misspelling and if you don't understand my nonsense, please let me know. I might be able to explain in the next chapter... Still: PLEASE comment!

„Lean forward. I’ll losen up your neckmuscles. Come on... How did you get so tensed...” Ricky literally kneeled on the Mole’s back. “You’re not ready to die of a heart attack yet... remember, what I said, when we met for the first time?” Cristiano gritted his teeth and hissed the answer. “How could I ever forget, you scared the hell out of me!” “Nonsense! I promised, I will rescue you!” Pepe stared at the bizarre scene on the floor. He wasn’t sure, if he had done the right thing, pushing the red ‘call-Ricky-because-it-is-an-emergency’-button under Cris’s desk. His master looked miserably pale and sick liying under the Brazilian on the floor, trying to breath. But still... the guy on top was Ricky and he was beyond each doubt. So Pepe took his mobile and tell Marcelo to get the car ready. After this treatment, Cris would be in need for a lift home, but the playmaker interrupted his action harshly. “No, he cannot go home, yet! Cris and I are going to talk for a while... Maybe, we haven’t taken a sauna for far too long. Pepe, tell Marcelo, to get that ready for us... And empty the place, please.” The defender nodded. He was afraid of the fragile state of Cristiano’s health and it didn’t make him feel better to find an expression of pure horror in his master’s eyes. But Pepe had learned to serve. It was his straw to selfcontrole. ‘Do what you’re told, don’t think too much and everything will turn out well.’ But this mantra included Cristiano, bossing the Rhino. Without the Mole’s iron will, Pepe feared to lose his grip and he knew, he would have to live in a padded cell, unable to cope with his life, ready to kill everybody he met without any reason. After a short pause of hesitation, he moved as fast as usual, calling Marcelo, while running downstaires to the spa-zone.

“Are you crazy!?” Sergio had pulled his knees right under his chin, to get his feet as far as possible away from the ‘monster’ on the floor. Sami didn’t even try to hide his satisfaction. “Don’t tell me you are afraid of our little fellow...” “Look he’s soooo cuuuute!” Mesut squeaked from under the table “Oh, he’s adorable!” A loud thunk combined with Lena’s voice swearing like a trooper reminded both man on the sofa, that there were more people in this room. Suddenly Álvaro voice sounded low from underneath the table “It’s definitely a boy. I can smell that! But he is really sweet.” “I don’t like him! And stop sniffing at his bum Álvaro!” This time Karim talked without been seen. “I’m sure he’s not house-trained yet. And take a look at his feet! He’s going to be really, really big. I don’t think he can be controlled, when he’s getting older.” Even unseen one could imagine the Frenshman pouting. “This is mad Khedira!”Sergio shook his head. “Well, Xabi adviced me to get exactly that race. See, when he’s grown up, he will be able to protect Mesut perfectly... Even against you.” The Dragon’s smile grew wider. “Xabi didn’t tell you to get this....this...” Mesut’s head apeared next to the sofa. “Please, Sese! Diego Armando Maradonna has feelings, too.” This time Sami coughed. “Honey, you can’t call him that name...” “But he needs three names! One for each head!” Sergio stared down under the table, from where three pair of big, round eyes glowed red back up to him.

“I don’t like him!” Fábio insisted. “He’s trouble.” Marcelo grinned. “Come down, diva! You’re just jealous of all the attention he gets, without even noticing. I think, he’s a natural in diversionary tactics, which is your area of expertise, if I’m not suffering of a severe amnesia.” The Portuguise grunted helplessly. Marcelo was more right, than he thought, but he had missed the main point. “Tell me, Bro... Where are you ordered to go each and every night?” It took all his concentraition to hide his eagerness. “I manipulate a distribution box near the club house. Cris wants the district to be really dark at about three o’clock.” Fábio hesitated. Why would anyone need a power blackout, when everyone was asleep anyway? And why was Marcelo never asking the important questions and what was Pepe up to, sneaking through the corridors each night... Fábio had no idea, how he was supposed to find the answers, but he was determined to find out... Ricky was on the inside for sure. He had to get the Necromancer/Voodoo Priest talking! The biggest problem would be, seperating the Brazilian from Cristiano...

“Where is Baby-Cris?” “Oh, it’s Tuesday.” The Brazilian playmaker coughed. “Well, yes. It is Tuesday, but where is your son?” Cristiano chuckled. “He’s doing mother and child swimming.” “Ah?!?” “Yeah, you know, he loves to splash.” “And who is with him?” “Oh, I’m sorry. Mesut is having this course with him.” “Why is Mesut going to a swimming course for mothers and babies with your son?” “Because they wouldn’t let me in, because it’s for women and nobody ever suspects Mesut to have something dirty on his mind and Cris loves him and...” “O.k. I got it, but admit, it’s kind of bizzar.” “You said you wanted to talk to me... I don’t believe, it was about my son’s physical education.” “No, of course not.” Ricky sighed. “Do you remember, what I told you about a thousand times?” Cristiano tried to see Ricky through the steam, but it was hopeless task. “Uhm, what of the billion different things, you tell me each day, do you mean?” He replied and was sure, the playmaker shook his head. “What about sex?” The Portuguise gasped. He hadn’t expected such a straightforwardness, but he always knew, when someone threw a ball in his courtand he wasn’t ready to let his masque go. “Now? Here?” It was a pitty, he was unable to see the older man blush. “You stupid woozle! You know exactly, what I meant. When have got laid for the last time, without sealing a contract or thinking about business?” The smile died on the Mole’s lips When had he been... He thought about lying and hesitated, but then again... At least it was Ricky right there in front of him and they had no secrets. “26th July 1999.” (Start counting his age, my dear readers!)

“Wow, Pipita is already gone?” Álvaro’s jar dropped. “Yep! And now we have to rearrange.” “Can you say that word again?” He loved the purring sound, the Frenshman in front of him made each time, he used the letter R. Karim rolled his eyes. “We have to think Puppy! We had a really comfortable situation with us sharing table and bed. This new Spaniard is not as easy going as Pipita. He will be demanding and he will claim the position. Think Puppy! Gone, our days of cuddly harmony! And a new coach will be here in no time, too. Well, at least, I don’t, think this will be too bad.” The Spanish striker tilted his head to be closer to the Kitten. “But you have a plan for our problem?” Álvaro had started whining a little, but kept on wagging his tail. Karim reached out to caress the Spaniard’s soft ears. “I won’t let you down. We can solve this problem the same way, we did the last time!” And the smirk, that spread over his face, made Álvaro feel like everything would turn out well.

“Do you remember, what you told me, when we met at the place between he worlds?” Ricky knew, there was no use in stiking with one theme for too long and by now, he knew enough about Cristiano’s unability to relax, so he simply moved on to the next topic. “I was triyng to get on a boat, but couldn’t make it... It was horrible!” Ricky shook his head. “You surprise me!” The Brazilian placed one hand on the Portuguese’s broad shoulder, gently stroking the tensed muscles, he found there. “See, when I was dead, all I did was playing football. Of course, I did it in front of my family and friends, but it was a match... I was on the pitch! You, our dearest perfectionist, who always stays a little longer after practise, just want to run home? I mean, this is kind of strange. No cameras, no fame, just the fear, that your unable to... Cris?” Through the steam, Ricky had almost missed the change in the Mole’s face, but goosebumps under his fingers warned the playmaker to be extra careful right now and so the Brazilian caught a clear sight of tears dropping from the younger man’s chin. “Come here.” Cristiano was a lot heavier than Ricky, but he was pulled easily into a hug and gently rocked in the Brazilian’s arms. “I know, you didn’t feel ready for all of this, yet. You feel lost, now that Alex is retired and Mou went to replace him as your diplomat. You are tired and afraid of the things ahead, but there will be help around soon. Florentino promised me. And don’t forget, I’m here with you. I won’t drop or leave you. Whatever happens, you can lean on me. You don’t have to face whatever it is alone. Let me just help you out. You know, I can. And I do not want anything back from you, except... Let my care and love be a gift, just let me save your soul. That’s all, I’m asking for. Just say yes and I will do whatever you need...But now, lets get out of this heat.”

“Do you think your mother will like him?” Still Sergio felt a fist around his stomach, when he looked at the black, three headed dog sitting between Mesut’s feet. “No, she won’t like him!” His lover’s face fell. “She will be desperately in love with him. My mother has a strange taste and a even weirder humour. She will love the thought of an angelic creature like you, training a hellhound... But I guess your right, he can be kind of cute.” The Puppy had just started hunting it’s own tail and ended as a bunch of fur, legs and heads. “Do you think it will be good with a child?” Mesut’s eyes looked like they were about to popp out of his head... Even more than usually. “What do you mean?” “Well, I was just thinking...” Sergio was unable to look up. Why the shit, did he always ruin a moment with one stupid sentence? “Of course, he will be good. He’s a dog and you can teach him to behave. You know nothing about how to train dogs, don’t you?” In surprise the defender looked up and found the small German beaming and giggling at him. “AND, there are going to be a lot of children...” The playmaker didn’t get any further, because Sergio sealed his lips with a passionate kiss, sinking his fingertips into the damp dark hair. “Oh, I’m sorry to interrupt you!” Caroline’s voice sounded honestly sad. “My husband just phoned me, I’m supposed to take Baby-Cris with me for tonight. Ricky will stay with Cristiano here at Valdebebas” Mesut handed the brunette Angel the baby bouncer with the sleeping boy. “He won’t wake up.” The German smiled brightly. “He’s so relaxed after swimming.” Caroline leaned foreward and places a light kiss on the playmaker’s forehead. “He’s relaxed, because you settle him. Thank you for taking care for him.” Mesut gently stroke the toddler’s hair, before he turned back to the beautiful woman in front of him. “It’s because I love him.” He wispered.

“Rapha!? Would you like to go out and have something to eat tonight?” Álvaro jumped around the shy Frenshman. “Are you not with Karim again? You guys seem a little... well, close lately.” “No, Kitty is busy.” The Spaniard’s grin grew wider. “He’s so clever! He knows a solution for each and every problem and I love the way he purrs or runs up a tree, when I hunt him...” Rapha rolled his eyes. He was just about iterrupting the striker, to prevent him from telling any more details about their intimacy, but something Álvaro said, raised his attention. “What problem do you guys have to get rid of, except fighting about a pot of milk and each others hair in ice cream?” “Well, you know, now that Pipita is gone to Italy, we have to integrate a new striker...” “Wait a second! You didn’t integrate, you had sex with Gonzalo...” “Yep! And now Karim is going to make sure, Fernando will be integrated, too.” The Frenshman lifted one eyebrow. Something had to be done. He had to protect that stupid Cat from doing a big mistake! “What about, me getting ready for dinner now, and we meet right here in about thirty minutes?” Rapha didn’t even wait for Álvaro to reply, running upstaires, he took out his cellphone and dialed.

Fernando was waiting for the darkness. It turned out to be his favourite time of the day, when the lights went black and his ‘visitor’ came. He couldn’t stop smiling, when he thought about the way this guy carefully lifted him, as if he had no weight at all. He imagined these firm hands running over his shoulders, strong arms holding him close and he found himself horny at the thought of the hard muscles of the man’s belly, althoug he had never seen them or touched them with his hands, but he had sensed them with his back, everytime he was pulled close slowly. The Spaniard had been fucked by so many guys, it confused him, how these simplest and barest touches combined with the hypnotic smell of musc, cinnemon and a tiny slice of caramel could leave him longing for more. He was interrupted by the feeling that someone just entered his room... Much too early to be his ‘visitor’! “Hi!” The tall Spaniard spun around and stared into the smirking face of... Shit! Fernando had always been good with recognising people, but lately he had a serious problem with his memories. “I thought, you might like to have some company.” Even while the small guy spoke with his strong accent, the Spaniard understood the reason for this visit as a hand reached out to fumble on his shirt and all he could do was staring at the man in front of him. This was not his knight in shining armour, who left a small gift each night for him on the pillow: An exotic flower, a sea shell and the top of a peacock’s feather. This young guy didn’t have the class, Fernando had just started dreaming about. He was so irrtated, he was unable to speak. “Well, maybe we could sit down and get to know each other an little better?” With a awkward push Nando felt his legs hit the edge of the bed and sat down instinctively. All his senses screaming ‘NO’, but his body was unable to react. A small, but strong hand landed on his knee. “Are you o.k.? You look pale!” At least this Frenshman seemed to be worried, but he didn’ get on any further. His mobile went loud with some Frensh hiphop, sounding terrible for the Spaniard’s ears. “Yeah? Oh, it’s you! What is it?... How do you know?...” The stupid smirk on the guy’s face slowly turned into a thin line. “What, wait!... I didn’t mean to...” The dark eyes grew wider ad wider. “Well, yes, I did mean to, but I have not yet... Oh! Yes, I see... No, of course not!...” He was shaking his head intense, obviously unaware, that whoever was talking to couldn’t see him. Then his voice changend to a higher tune. “Please, believe me, if I had known... Uhm, yes... I will! I promise! You can count on me!” The young guy’s face had turned from rosy to white, to red, to white and at the end to a coloue close to dryed plaster stone during the phone call. Slowly he got up turning backt to Fernando. “I really had no idea! I’m sorry. Please, can you tell him, if he askes again, that I haven’t done anything to you?” Fernando nodded silently at the terrified sound in the Frenshman’s voice. The guy took his time to look again at the blonde. “Still, it’s a pitty! You are quite pretty, you know! But I want to keep my head on my shoulders. So, good night.” And he rushed out of the room. The rest of the night stayed silent, for the first time Fernando missed the company in his bed and he found himself unable to get any sleep, waiting for his ‘visitor’ in vain.

“This is Señor Carlo Ancelotti. He’s our new coach.” The hardly restrained waves of laughter among the complete team (including Iker and even Xabi) irritated Florentino Pérez. Of course he was unable to notice the reason for the strange behaviour. “He will take care of the practice now and...” Sergio surpressed a scream. “...As you know, he’s very experiences, so we’re happy...” This time Sami made a low grunt from the back of the room. ”We’re happy, he’s with us now...” Most of the young men kept staring unbelieving at the club’s president, but more and more of them lost their self-composure, falling over each other laughing out loud. Ancelotti turned to the older Spaniard. They just could not know, that Pérez had used the words of Ricky’s lessons. “May..maybe, the coach and you would like to stay and listen to the lecture, you forced us to have every day.” Iker managed to say in between two fits of laughter. Ancelotti nodded and found himself a chair next to Pérez.  
”This is Fábio. The picture, beamed to the wall, showed the defender with an almost perfect bitch-face.” “How did you remove the number from this wanted poster?” Sergio was in a good mood, much to Fábio’s disappoval. “At least I don’t look like an idiotic retard...” He had not even ended his sentence, when the next picture prooved him wrong. Ricky waited patiently for the team to calm down again. “Fábio is a... Well, we actually ain’t sure, what he is...” “Is he at all? And i he’s not, why do we see him?” Marcelo screamed from the back at the room. “What?!” Fábio was ready to punch the Brazilian down, but Cris finally moved to end the discussion himself. “If you don’t want to end up in a philosophical arguement with Ricky this afternoon, you should better keep your mouth shut!” His determined look and the harsh wave of his hand made it clear to everyone. The Mole was in a bad mood today. And anyone, who didn’t considerate of this, would be a target for the complete day, so Marcelo leaned back and shut up immediatly. “Well, we have an idea, what he is, but we still need some more tests. What we can say, Fábio runs faster now, he kicks harder and he’s a little more aggressive.” “I am not!” “You see?” The next picture showed the defender obviously angry. “But whatever he turns out to be, we love Fábio and...” “...WE ARE HAPPY HE IS WITH US!” The new coach nodded at Pérez. “I guess, we understand now, what just happened.”

“David, just a few minutes?” Ricky pulled the Englishman aside. “Yeah, what is it?” The gentle eyes of the playmaker caused a faint feeling of insecurity, although the older man was unable to explain. “You once told me, you met with Cris before?” “Yes, it was on that boring island, what was it called again?” “Madeira, and don’t tell him, he would probably kill you. For him it’s sacred ground.” “Oh, I’m sorry. But he was cute...” “Do you remember, WHEN you were there?” “Uhm, let me think... must have been in uuuhm...” “Could it have been in 1999?” “Yes, possible... Wait, yes, it was the year we won the triple...” “Can I ask you something very personal?” David looked around, he was alone with the playmaker and he had the feeling, the comming question was an important one. “Of course, but I don’t promise to answer...” He faked a smile, but regreted immediatly. Who was he to fool? This guy in front of him was Cristiano’s right hand and confidant. He had to be good at what he did, Cris hated dilettantes. “Have you slept with Cris back then?” “Well, uhm...” David blushed. “Did he tell you anything? I mean, he was so cute, you should have seen him, he was nothing like his teammates and...” “Do they teach you to count and calculate in the U.K.?” David stared at the Brazilian. His jar dropped and he fought for anything intelligent to reply, but the playmaker just went on. “Do you know, how old Cris was back then?” “Uhm, I guess about 16 or 17...” “You guess?!” David felt his cheeks burning and cold sweat running down his spine at the same time. He had never thought about this before, but now, he felt like a monster. “He was 14 years old! How old have you been?” The tune of Ricky’s voice was sharp and it felt like a knife in David’s ears. “He was tall and very buff for his age...” It was a lame excuse and they both knew it. “Did he try to contact you after your first... encounter?” The Englishman started playing with his shirt, his hands wet enough for a goldfish to hibernate. He gave in... “Yes, he phoned me over and over again, he even tried to visit me, but I was afraid... I mean, what if the press found out, he was just a kid back then and Victoria can be very cruel, I thought he might forget about me and look at him now, he’s really made it... He...” “David, you casted a blockade on him. Take it off and he might be healthy again.” “I didn’t bewitch him!?” “Just take it off and we’ll know.” The fact, that the Brazilian stayed calm through the complete conversation was the spookiest thing in this situation. “If you need help, we can do this together.” All David could do was to nodd at the offer. He felt like an idiot. He had told himself over and over again, he was doing the right things, but if he was honest, he could see the sadness in Cris’s eyes all the time. It was time, to pu something right, NOW! Even if it meant, he lost all of his chances on the Mole.

The day went on pretty normal: A first workout with the new coach, Marcelo and Pepe toturing someone (Iker was the unfortunate one today), Mesut and Zizou staying a little longer for practising some tricks, Sami and Sergio watching them carefully from opposite sidelines... But Cristiano went up early. He felt strange, said, he needed a moment of silence and Ricky’s content smile after the Mole left, calmed even Fábio down. Fernando had watched all this from his window. He was bored and confused. Why had he been left alone last night. Had his ‘visitor’ lost interest in him or was it something about the strange situation with the Kitten. He stared lethargic down at the players and later at the city, he once loved so much. He felt lost and lonely. Not to misunderstand, the doctors took great care of him, made sure he ate three times a day, not puked and take his ataractics. But Fernando didn’t feel alive as long as the hot Spanish sun filled the light blue sky. He waited for the night, waited for someone to make him feel welcome and wanted. Iker had tried to find a way to him, but they both had never been friends and in his actual condition the striker was behaving like a complete bitch and the goalkeeper finally gave up. After Fernando’s break down during their talk, Xabi hadn’t shown up either and he couldn’t get rid of the feeling, that he had done something wrong... He had no idea, that it was the Basque’s bad conscience, that kept him away. Xabi had known, that Steven was planning something cruel, he had experienced it himself, when he left Liverpool. The bastard had seduced his wife and secretly Xabi saw Steven as responsible for his divorce, at least a part of it. But Fernando didn’t think about this. He felt dull and depressive untill the moment, when the whole town was dark in one strike. He closed his eyes and waited for the gentle touch, but a sudden shock caught him, when two big hands grabbed him roughly, spinning him around and holding him close. One of them pressing on his mouth to stop his scream from growing louder. With accelerated breaths he recognized the smell of musc and sweat, strong and masculine, and with rising horror he heard the words whispered into his ear. “I am here to safe you, Freckles. Let’s run away, I carry you, you don’t have to do much, just be mine and I make you feel like a princess...” With a flash the lights went on again and both man stared at the new arrivals. Two tall guys, very broad and both tan and dark eyed. Fernando stared at the first one, he couldn’t remember the name, but he knew by the shaved dark hair and the dangerous glow in the eyes, the guy was ready to kill. The second one was so eye-catching, even Fernando’s perforated memory couldn’t forget Portugal’s most expensive player, who started talking now. “So, what are you doing in here?” His voice was calm and his hands supported this impression with a familiar gesture. “I... I’m going to take Freckles with me to the North. I’m going to save him from you!” “He doesn’t look like he feels save right now.” “Well, it’s because of you guys, you’re going to kill him!” Fernando had problems with taking breath, cause Daniel pressed him so hard against himself. He remembered the Dane very well, and there was no way, he would survive following this freak to the Northlands. Daniel wasn’t as cruel as Steven, but he was thoughtless and never asked if Fernando liked what he did ti him. He must have been completely unaware of the panic rising in the Saniard’s chest, because he seemed turned on by the adrenaline... Nando could tell from the growing bulge, that was pressed ageinst his back... If it was true, that tendencies increased through the transformation, this Dane would probably kill him with his seize... And Daniel was never thoughtful enough to prepare him before penetrate him... “Why do you think, you can take him with you? He’s Spanish, you know where you are right now?” “He loves me!” Of course, Dan was convinced, he did... This guy always thought, just because he had a big cock, Nando had fallen in love with him... In fact, Fernando started comparing the Dane with Sergio finding amazing similarities, Daniel was like Sergio careless, but without the laughter, the sunshine... “And because of the trigger..” “What trigger?” “Jude sent him to kill your Mole!” The two tanned guys shared a look. “Well, he hasn’t done anything yet...” The short haired Portuguese grunted. “Then, let’s risk something...” And Cristiano’s face turned into an evil grin revealing all his shark-like molars. Fernando felt his knees turning into blancmange and fell forward, as the complete room started turning.

Sergio rushed out of his room. It was in the middle of the night, but it didn’t matter right now. He had just been checking his emails for the last time, when he found one, coming from Juan Mata. It had a video-file attached and without thinking Sergio had opened. He was s shocked aboutt the pictures and the sounds, it took him almost three minutes untill he dropped his mobile. Sergio wasn’t a lot of a thinking kind of person, but he cared for the people around him and he had known his favourite Spannish striker long enough, to say, if he was crying for more or for mercy. The scene wasn’t the porn as Juan had written, it was the documentation of a crime, a gang rape. By the hairstyle, Sergio could easily tell the time, it was shot: right before Nando’s trensfere to Chelsea...And now a player from the ‘new’ club did send it... Suddenly the Spaniard felt his head spinning...What if he had ever done something, his... buddy had not wanted. He had never asked Nando, how he felt, if he wanted to have Sergio close... He needed an answer, NOW! When the Sevillano reached the stairs leading to the medical-station, the sound of a fight made him hesitate. Then a tall man fell, rolling down, landing right in front of the defender. Awakend by the noise more and more players (most of them still stayed overnight since the transformation) came out of their rooms. Pepe was upstairs and there was no doubt, he had been the one pushing this pale foreigner down. Nando had fallen on his knees at the stairhead, staring down in horror and now Cristiano stepped in behind him looking more determined to defend his ground than ever before. Sergio glanced up to the guy, he thought he knew so well and then back down to the stranger at his feet and as the man got up on his feet, Sergio recognised him, from the video he had just seen. This was one of the first to hurt his friend, this bastard had laughed about the tears on the white freckeled skin. Sergio felt the rage burning in his heart, but he fought it back. He had to speak to Nando first. “Honey, have I ever hurt you like he did?” His voice was shaking. “Hurting? This whore cannot be hurt! He made me feel like he’s in love with me, while he fucked nearly every player in Englang! I would have treated you better, than you deserve, Bitch!” The Dane spat on the carpet, earning an angry gasp from Mesut, who was hiding behind Sami. Sergio streched his neck and turned back to the broken creature upstrairs “I’m sorry Nando, I’m a selfish person and a lausy friend. I should have done this years ago, because you deserve it.” And with one fluent movement he punshed the Dane right on the nose. To most of their surprise Daniel didn’t fall. He shook his head heavily and prepared to fight back and it was Xabi with a garden hose, who seperated the two men in the end... “It’s impressing to see two Tauri crash, isn’t it?” Ricky wispered to Iker, who deseprately tried to organize his team bringing Sergio back to his room, before the complete furniture was destroyed. “You are a citizen of the Northlands. That’s why I let you go, but if you dare to come back, I won’t show any mercy. Now leave my Iberia.” Cristiano had raised his chin during the speach and David had to admit, he was a bit sad, he had set this proud, future worldruler free this afternoon. The Mole bent over, lifting the fallen striker in front of him up and carried the crying creature slowly out of sight back into the darkness of the corridor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like my inspiration is breaking apart... I'm not sure, I can end this in a proper way, now Pérez had started a bargain sale at Real. I guess, I'm going to improvise, but the end, that feels right at this moment inculdes a cracking up Mole, a red button and a lot of dead people! If anyone has a better idea, please tell me!


	22. Perfection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anger, poison and weakness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never thought, I could write on... But here it is! Of course, I had to clean up a little ;-) I hope you guys like it, although my writing abilities are a little rusty after such a long break ;-) Please comment, (nearly) any reaction from you will be welcome! And if you find some misspelling, just ignore it!

„So he speaks Frensh and German, Portuguese and English and Spanish, of course? So what?” “I heard, he plays the piano and the violine very well, too.” “And Cris has conjured him to stay, because of WHAT?!” Fábio was exploding. “He said, he needed him…” Pepe tried to answer, but the faked blond defender was not listening. “He was sent to kill him, and Cris carrys him like a child? It’s ridiculous…” “No, your behaviour is ridiculous!” Non of them had noticed, their master entering the room. “Fábio, could you please explain, what makes you that angry.” “You are putting yourself into great danger, if he’s triggered…” “I have taken care of this. It was quite easy to erase and just caused a light untemporary amnesia.” Ricky replied. The Brazilian had followed Cristiano as usually. “Fábio, I carried him, because he was not able to walk or even get up himself. And I told him, I needed him, BECAUSE he speaks Frensh, German, English, Portuguese, Spanish, Danish and I think Russian, too. I need him, because he can solve a big problem. His education combined with his quick tongue make him the perfect secretary!” The Mole turned on his heels, rushing out of the room and left his crew staring, jars dropped and speachless for a long time. “Secretary?” Fábio was the first to reclaim his voice back. “He’s thinking of a secretary?!” The blonde man chuckled. In his relief he had missed the most importent point, the word, that silenced Marcelo and Pepe and that placed a big satisfied smile into Ricky’s gentle face, spreading from his beaming dark eyes to his mouth: For the first time, Cristiano had called something or someone “perfect”!

“What the hell happened? You said, you would take care of our new striker?” Álvaro sounded very disappointed. “Yes, I would have... I had prepared everything for you, but, let’s say, something happened on the way and we have to change our plans. Look, Puppy, he’s still very sick and won’t be able to play anyway...” “But Sergio always said, the guy is a bomb and Juan sent me a video-file, which proves, he’s a pro...” Karim grabbed Álvaro’s soft ears and directed the Spaniard’s head so close to his own, their noses touched. “A porn-video?!” The Dog nodded slowly. “As much, as I would like to convince myself... You have to delete it!” “Why? It’s pretty hot. You would like it, too. One of these guys is even bigger than Sergio and...” “ÀLVARO! Please, this is not funny!” After screaming the name, the Frenshman had regained his coposure and for the rest of the sentence he had lowered his voice to a whisper. “Let’s say. He’s is already taken...” The Puppy’s face was one big single questionmark. “Álvaro, when I was in his room, Cristiano called me, HIMSELF. And he made pretty clear, if we go on, he will stop us HIMSELF!” “NO?!” “Shhhhh, yes. And he won’t handle us with kid’s gloves!” The Spaniard’s eyes had grown wide. He had always seen himself as a future member of the Mole’s inner circle. This whole situation didn’t match with his plans... “Kitten?!” “Yes, Puppy?” “I arrived at a decision!” “What?” “From now on, we should stop playing around! Let’s grow up and do something useful! If Cris thinks, Fernando isn’t to be part of any games, we should protect him ourselves.” “Does your plan include ice cream while growing up?” “Absolutely! But keep your fur at your jar!” “It wasn’t my fur, last time...”

Half an hour later, the complete team was listening to their new coach. “We have three weeks to prepare.” Ancelotti closed his speach. Finally they would have their rematch against Barça, it had been rescheduled after Ricky’s funeral, Cristiano’s heart attack and a dubios request by Sandro Rosell, who claimed Lio had a mysterious illness. Sergio was sure, it was hoof and mouth disease, which earned him rolling eyes from Iker and Xabi and applause from Pepe and Marcelo. In the end it didn’t matter. They would be back on the pich. Playing! But it was all a big red herring.

Mesut was horrified. It was dark around him and he hit his head hard, when he tried to get up. He found himself in a very small place, roled into a ball, unable to stretch his arms or legs. He tried to scream, but his mouth was closed with some tape and he couldn’t get his arms up to his head. Panic started rising as he felt his “room” moving somehow. He tried to rearrange his thoughts: What was the last thing he remembered? He was at the boss’s office, the new coach had asked him up there after his speech to the team. And then... then... nothing!!! What the muffin had happened? (Ricky had tought Mesut not to curse...) He had no idea, how long he had been lying in his uncomfortable position? But suddenly the movement around him stopped and a bright light blinded his eyes.

Ricky heard the sound of a motor and muffled voices and somewhere in his brain his instincts woke. He was a polite and peaceful man, a preacher for respect and love among mankind, but he wasn’t only a priest of life... It was life and death. And Ricky had been taught to fight, if necessary. He realised, the guys, two tall men, he didn’t recognize, talking Italien. He knew, Italy had been taken by the Hell-Lords and although, he had no personal aversion against devils or demons, he knew, that these creatures were the natural enemies of the Moles. Ricky had chosen his side early. He was Cristiano’s tutor and mentor, ready to guide the Portuguese on the least unethical way. So he was sure, this meant trouble. Why was he in a car with some guys, talking Italian? He remembered, he went to a conversation with the boss and the new coach and... These poor lost souls must have doped him! But why and, what the milkmaid, would happen next?

Cristiano entered the boss’s office. “You wanted to see me?” He looked at Perez and Acelotti, waiting for him. “Sit down, do you want some tea?” Cristiano leaned forward and grabbed a cup. He recognised the sweet smell of almond immediatly, but ignored it and took a swig of the brew. The boss seemed amused about it and Cristiano wondered, why Florentino, was trying to kill him. “What’s the matter of this meeting?” “Well, your coach and I came to the decission, that things have not been going very well, for some time...” The Portuguese sighed. “Please, we can shorten this little talk, if you stop suggesting and tell me what you want.” Ancelotti smiled gently at Cristiano. “As you wish. Right now, at this very moment, a strong poison is running through your veins. You will already find it dificult to get up or move. Please don’t judge us for this. It’s best for your beloved Iberia to have you gone. Look boy, you have been too sick to keep any danger away from the country, so we decided, we need a new force, to make sure, Spain and Portugal won’t be taken by an evil conquerer. And some of my friends will be here soon. Iberia needs strong allies. Don’t fight the poison, it’s too strong, relaxe and it will be over fast...” With these words the coach had been getting up, crossing the room and reached out for Cristiano’s hand, but he had misjudged the Mole’s reflexes and before he knew, what happend, his head was hitting Florentino’s big writingdesk with a loud nasty crash. Blood splattered over pens and papers. The Portuguese was pleased with the effect his action caused at the boss. Still pressing the gray haired head onto the desk top, he revealed all his shark-teath before he started speaking. “Do I get this right? You thought, you could get rid of me by a little drop of hydrocyanic acid? Flo, you surprise me...” The older man had started shaking as Cristiano went on. “Now, let’s stick to one of your points.” Ancelotti’s corpse hit the floor, after the Mole released his grip and got up from his chair. “Flo, tell me your plans, don’t fight it and I will make it easy for you.” Cristiano’s voice sounding like honey and ice made the club’s president pale as chalk; he saw his mistake now crystall-clear. How could he have forgotten the Mole’s ability to absorb most kinds of poison, but he had a life insurance left. “WAIT! IF YOU KILL ME; YOU WILL NEVER KNOW; WHAT HAPPEND TO MESUT AND RICKY!” Florentino Pérez’s plan was simple. He had studied the Moles in general and Cris in particular and all of them were obsessed by something. They called it “having a weakness”. Someone they adored, they held almost sacred as an eternal well of strengh and inspiration. In this special case, there was no doubt, it was Ricky. And by mentioning the name, Cristiano must have been shocked already, the older man was sure... And Mesut had his own way of casting magic on the Mole. And if the kid would be able, to give a soul to the guy he had been sent to, it would be another big advantage for Iberia and the new allies. But Pérez was wrong. “Wait a second, I want to call at least one witness for your crime.” And Cristiano dialed the number fast.

Jude hummed all the way to the airport. His driver was close to a heartattack, because he suspected a new devilish plan behind his masters good mood. The Mole had to keep himself from jumping in expectation, when finally the package was placed in front of him. He forced himself to calm down and cleared his voice for a little speach to his crew. “Gentlemen, this here is our key to the sunny side of life. I present you the key to Iberia!” With a histrionic gesture he opened the box with a crowbar and for a long moment long all of them stared at the inside: An empty box! None of them noticed the first snowflakes falling slowly, but constant, like silent herolds.

Mesut was lifted carefully out of his little prison and big gentle hands loosend his bonds and removed the gag. He squinted and the sudden bright light made it impossible for him to see a thing, but he knew the voice, the huge hands and the careful way of treating him. He leand forward to hug the guy in front of him, but his arms were still too stiff and so he just burried his face into the shoulder, that suported his head, sobbing one word to calm himself and to stop himself from crying: “Per!”

“Did I get this right? You invited a Devil-Army to conquer Spain... uhm, Iberia? You tried to poison Cris and you sold Ricky to Gigi? Now, what I absolutly didn’t get is, why did you send Mesut to this English Mole? You wanted this guy to be weakend by the kid, too? I don’t understand that!” Cristiano sighed again. Iker had just hurried upstairs to witness Pérez lachrymose confession, because the angelic captain would never believe a Mole’s explainations about double homicide and the president was singing like a stool pidgeon, when Cristiano’s mobile rang. “Ricky?” Florentino immediatly stopped, his jar dropped. This Voodoo Priest should have been dead already according to his plans and with him gone, the Mole should be easier to destroy. “You are where? How did you get there? Uhum... Yeah, I’ll send someone to fetch you...NO! No, just wait and don’t do something stupid. Bye” The Mole turned back to Iker. “I’m sorry, Ricky stranded on a car park near Barcelona. Please don’t ask me, how he got there. But maybe Señor Pérez can explain.” Both turned to the older man, who was obviously sweating right now. “Iker, believe me... He is too weak, he cannot protect Madrid, we don’t need him...” The goalkeeper’s eyes widened. “So he’s telling the truth, you wanted to get rid of him! I knew it the moment you presented a Demon as our new coach!” The Portuguese coughed astonished, but Iker just shrugged. “An Angel knows one, when he sees one. And a word to you...” He turned to Florentino Pérez. “There was a time, I trusted you, but this was long ago. I made my decision! Madrid... Iberia is Mole’s country! If there is a creature, that hates Deamons and Devils more than a Mole, it’s an Angel.By deciding against Cris, you decided against me, too.” The goalkeeper turned on his heels and left the room, not looking back, for two reasons: First, he could not bear watching a man die, he once looked up to like a son to his father and second, he didn’t want Cristiano to see the tears in his eyes. Iker was so concentrated on not turning around, he managed the most impossible trick. He missed a nearly 2 metres tall cow, as he crashed into Sergio. One look from the defender’s warm eyes were enough, to destroy Ikers attempt to keep his countenance... But as the guy in front of him was Sergio, the goalkeeper just hugged him and started sobbing unrestrained. No doubt, the younger one would join him in less than two seconds. And Sergio was crying loud enough to drown the crashing noise, sounding like someone was destroing a writing desk with a skull, that came from the office down the corridor, while outside feather-like snowflakes made their way to the ground. A silent pall for the earth, announcing the arrival of a new conquerer, who didn’t even know, he was expanding his sphere.

Cristiano was on his way downstairs. He had ordered Marcelo and Pepe to fetch Ricky, now he had to take care of Mesut, but he was calm in a very starnge way. He almost felt light-hearted, when his mobile went screaming again. “Mou?” “Filho, when I gave in to move to England for you, I thought, you would be able to take care of Madrid yourself.” “Let’s say we had an unforseen attack, but we’re nearly back to normal...” “Your wasting your breath! Guess who’s sitting in my kitchen, eating cookies and drinking hot chocolate.” Cristiano nearly fell off the stairs. “MESUT!” “Well guessed, but no need to scream. At my age the hearing becomes worse by itself. My sources informed me about his... travel, and we were able to switch some boxes. Now tell me, what is more dangerous: sending him back to you, because he is not safe in Madrid or keeping him and Sami will destroy Madrid?” There was a short flash of a Godzilla-like Sami, stamping down buildings in Cristiano’s mind and he had to shake his head to get rid of it. “Coach, please! Can you arrange his flight or do I have to come and get him myself?” The older man chuckled. “I’ll bring him home, but he’ll stay for the night, the weather is miserable and I promised him apple-pancakes.”...  
Cristiano let his feet decide which way to go. He had to think. Mesut was safe with Mourinho, Marcelo and Pepe were on their way to get Ricky back home and he had killed two traitors, that tried to murder him cowardly... He wasn’t afraid at all, although his Mentor had been kidnapped... His thoughts started spinning: It should have caused a grave effect on me, Ricky is the most important person in my life... I feel lost, when he’s not around... no, I don’t!  
Still in thoughts he opened a door and found himself staring at a slender silhouette, tall and gracefull. Fernando turned away from the window, looking back at the Mole, lifting his chin a little higher than necessary. It made him look a bit poshy and Cristiano couldn’t hide a grin. This Spaniard was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. With three steps he crossed the room and reached out for the freckled guy. “You’re early. No waiting until midnight, no power blackout, just you?” The question irritated the Portuguese. “Do you want me to go? I never meant to force you into something, so if you want me to leave...” “Cut the crab, Mole! We both know, you cannot let it go.” Cristiano’s jar dropped. Nando was right, even if he went away right now, he would be back later, to watch the guy sleeping or to hold him through the night, or... His face turned crimson as he felt himself hardening in his pants. Maybe he should leave without hesitating, run and forget this... this... perfect skin with the million freckles and the fiery eyes framed by long dark lashes and the silky hair, that caught the highlights of the sinking sun and... “Fuck!” “Yes, I can see that.” “No, it’s complicated!” The Mole looked like he might cry. “How did you do this?” “Now it was Nando’s part to be confused. “I haven’t done a thing!” He was ready to do whatever he was forced to, just for the permission to stay, and he had the feeling he owed the Mole a favour. This Man had protected him from Daniel and he had caried him back to his room, without taking advantage of Fernando’s situation... In fact, Cristiano had never done anything, Nando wouldn’t have wanted. And he smelled ridiculously good, and his skin looked like caramel... The Spaniard gulped. Was he turned on by this Mole? Well, he had sworn himself, he would never ever love a woman like he had loved Olalla, but Cristiano Ronaldo was definetly not female! Fernando’s thoughts rotated, when he finally looked into Cris’s eyes. All he could read in them was one sentence. The Mole silently begging him “Please don’t hurt me...” And he felt sorry for the Portuguese... A killer-machine, ready to murder for his interests, trained to maximum musculature, a creature without conscience... Nando couldn’t fight the need to hug this helpless monster and he felt the reaction immediatly: Stong arms closing carefully around him, firm hands holding him lovingly and the smell, that made him dizzy, but he forced himself back. They had to set things clear first. “Cristiano?!” The Mole seemed shocked. “You have to know somethings, before you can have me.” He waited for any reaction, and was satisfied with a slight nod. “I am broken, used and beaten up, this may lead to a lot of trouble. I might turn sick or... have situations, when I behave like a freak.” Again, he got a nod from the other man. “And the most important thing: I will never love you...” Cristiano gulped hard, but waited for Fernando to go on. “...I will not love you, the way I loved my wife and kids.” A single tear was running down these perfect white cheeks, when the Mole lifted his “weakness” carefully and placed him on the bed. How could he ever been able, to send this creature away? The Portuguese planned cuddling and maybe a little kissing, but not more. He would never force this treasure to anything... But it was Nando, who took the lead, pulling down Cris’s pants, giving him the tounge, taking him in full length, until the Mole lost his last drop of self control.

Under normal circumstances, Sami would have been alarmed, he had not seen Mesut for more than four hours. He might have thought about the uncommen cold weather, but he was siting next to Xabi, staring at the screen, watching stunned, how a man, he had known as a natural leader, now a shadow of himself, was dying under Devil’s hands. How he was shaking in his last convulsions for nearly two minutes and how his body swang slightly on the rope, they had hanged him from... The war was on. The Hell-Lords had reached out for the north!


End file.
